


A Burning World

by Medli_ng



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Bad Touch, But most of the Gladers won’t die, Like Glader Slang, M/M, Non-con touching, Nothing serious, Only some elements of the book, Posted Originally on Fanfiction.net by Lily Bird Flower, Some Major Character death, Story of a friend, Worst thing is a kiss, memory wipes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medli_ng/pseuds/Medli_ng
Summary: So, what if Janson had brought soldiers with him to the room instead of being by himself? What if Teresa couldn’t save Thomas from Janson? Find out more in this story.By the way, this is NOT my story. This is Lily Bird Flower’s story, from Fanfiction.net, who has given me permission to republish her story here. Thank you, Lily Bird Flower.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is Lily Bird Flower’s story, but they allowed me to publish this on their behalf, since they don’t want to get distracted from writing new chapters. Anyways, this is her notes down below.
> 
> Hello! This is just something I wanted to work on because I’m getting some writer’s block on the story with Peter and his... I shouldn’t talk about other stories, so this is just something that I can work on when I get writer’s block for my Spider-Man story.
> 
> If you don’t like the ship that I may use in this story, please just go and never read this. I myself feel sort of disgusted by interpreting Janson and Thomas’ relationship this way, but Janson just kinda paved the way with his weird and creepy words. Like how he referred to Thomas as his in the last movie at the end. How do you expect me to interpret that?! I mean seriously, do you expect me to NOT think that Janson has at least SOME sort of obsession with Thomas at the end of Death Cure?
> 
> Also, the Maze Runner series is an awesome series, go watch or read it. I mean, what? I didn’t say anything... Anyways, if you want to understand this story (which you don’t, trust me), you have to watch the film or at least know the gist of the film plot. Since this is based off of the movies and not the books. Sorry, those who liked the books better, this is based off of the movie!
> 
> Now, those who haven’t run away yet, there might be some creepy vibes later on, and MAYBE, just MAYBE some yaoi, but first I need to be able to write better. Meaning that this could potentially be about a boy loving another boy in the “I want to be your boyfriend!” lind of way and have... sexual intercoarse. So, if you don’t like that, then why did you read this far down? GO AWAY!
> 
> God, haters are just secretly jealous that you had the guts to actually write what you wanted to write. Jeez, stop being so mean and just go away, go to another story, or write your own! So, without further ado, here we go!
> 
> PS: Sorry that my writing is bad. I have always sucked at writing stories so this won’t be too different. If you wish to stand through that, them go ahead and read it. If not, well, this was for me anyways. And I have no one to proof read my story, so expect a lot of misspellings.

     Thomas’ senses came on one by one, and eventually Thomas managed to open his eyes. He had been tired, but once he opened his eyes all fatigue seemed to disappate. The sounds of a building crashing reached Thomas’ ears, but he didn’t really register the noise. He turned his head and saw Teresa sitting right by him, managing to catch Teresa in the action of glancing at his face, and caught her off guard. Thomas looked down at his arm, and stared blankly at the syringe in Teresa’s hand for a few seconds before it finally clicked that Teresa had taken his blood.

     “Do you know what this place is, Thomas?” Thomas, wanting to see where Janson was, let his head fall back onto this sort of patient bed that he was on, twisting his neck so he could see Janson standing at the window behind the hospital bed. Janson looked back at Thomas, before averting his gaze and looking out to the world again, Teresa getting up and moving over to the table set up on the other side of the room. “It’s a lifeboat. The whole world might be sinking, but that doesn’t mean we have to be.”

     Then Thomas’ adrenaline began to kick in as he remembered Ava and Janson firing at her, and felt something on his wrists. When he glanced down at them, his hands curled into fists as his wrists were cuffed against the sturdy cloth strapping Thomas’ waist to the hospital bed. “When will it be ready?” Janson asked Teresa, walking away from the windows, and then Thomas noticed the few soldiers standing in the room with them.

     “It’s almost done,” Teresa replied, the rage within Thomas almost spilling over at the mere sight of her. Thomas yanked his wrists back, failing to free himself from the hospital bed restraints. Thomas breathed heavily, moving his gaze over to Janson, who had stopped and just gazed at Thomas.

     “Why didn’t you just kill me?” Thomas asked after a few moments of silence.

     “Kill you?” Janson began to move closer, his walk more confident now that Thomas was restrained. “No, we don’t want to do that.” Teresa paused, before moving again with a more clouded expression.

     Janson only stopped when he was about to get TOO close to Thomas. “We’re going to take special care of you.” Thomas growled underneath his breath, glaring at Janson with all the hatred Thomas could muster. “We’ll keep you alive, just-!” Thomas yanked on his restraints again, this time much more violently. Janson stopped speaking for a bit, and then continued.

     “In return, you’ll give life to the rest of us. The ones we choose to save, anyways.” Janson wrapped his fingers around one of the capsule syringes and turned it on, smiling without any kindness once more. “There’s obviously not going to be enough for the rest of us.” Janson started to walk over to Teresa, facing Thomas for only a few more steps before turning to Teresa. “Hard choices are going to have to be made.” 

     Thomas’ hatred spilled over, his face twitching with rage, and Thomas struggled against the restraints placed on him, the soldier right by Thomas tensing slightly. “The flare will burn itself out. The question is, who will be the ones left standing?” Janson plucked the finished cure out of Teresa’s hand, signaling to one of the two soldiers standing near the door.

     Janson turned away from Teresa as the soldier grabbed Teresa’s arm and placed his gun behind her back when Teresa tried and failed miserably at head-butting the soldier, getting Teresa to leave without that much resistance other than curses and screams. “And thanks to you, to THIS, we finally get to choose,” Janson finished, acting as if that never happened. Janson pulled up his sleeve, brandishing his infected arm to Thomas and hovering the capsule over his arm. Thomas stopped in his stuggles, breathing heavily from exerting himself as their eyes met, Thomas’ confused and Janson’s cocky.

     “To our health.” Janson stabbed himself with the syringe capsule, his breath hitching and face scrunching up, before relaxing as the cure entered his blood stream. Janson signaled to the remaining soldiers, and they all surrounded Thomas as Janson left the room.

     Claustrophobia hit Thomas as the soldiers manhandled Thomas, one of them yanking the restraints off as another pushed down when Thomas made to get up. The third aimed his tazing gun at Thomas, the gun whining as it turned on. Thomas began to have a panic attack, every sense heightened and his heart pumping madly. He felt himself get yanked off the bed-seat thing he was on and his hands cuffed behind his back, the gun hovering over the center of Thomas’ back. Thomas’ mouth felt dry, and Thomas gulped down as much fear as he could as he was pushed down a series of hallways. 

     They trudged onward with no care for Thomas’ struggling and yells. Then as the small group entered an intersection, in which a larger group of soldiers were also entering, the building began to shake, and a large portion of the hallway to the group’s left was destroyed and filled with debris. One of the soldiers made a run for it, and fired off a cacophany of panicked, thundering footsteps and yelling of directions. A couple of soldiers sprinted ahead of the group and called out a new escape route when a portion of the building caved in once more. Thomas ran with them, runnig towards the back so he could come up with an escape plan. 

     However, that didn’t work out as one of the soldiers grabbed one of Thomas’ cuffed arms and pushed him ahead, so he was more in the middle. _Well, now I’m completely screwed._ The smell of sweat hung in the air, and Thomas wanted to gag, but preservation instincts had him swallow down the bile and roll with it. Then an excited yell from ahead said something, but Thomas didn’t quite catch it.

     But everyone around him did as all the soldiers began to cheer. Thomas slowed down a bit as he looked about in confusion, before a soldier pushed him ahead, shouting, “Don’t slow me down or I WILL fucking shoot you!” Now Thomas felt reinvigorated to keep on running, though later Thomas would wish that that soldier had shot him in the back.

     Then the entire gaggle of soldiers halted, with Thomas accidently numping into a soldier. “Watch it, kid. Hey, wait a minute.” The soldier Thomas had bumped into pulled Thomas through the crowd and then, when the crowd began to thin out, Thomas saw what they were cheering for.

     There was the pool Thomas had jumped into earlier, with some shards of glass still floating around and some more debris in the pool. With the small gaping hole in the wall and the pool below, the soldiers could easily jump into the pool and survive. And that was what the soldier did.

     He suddenly pushed Thomas with no warning, before jumping off himself, sparking a fire as soldiers began diving left and right. Thomas opened his mouth to scream, before closing it again as he broke the water’s surface. He couldn’t swim with his hands cuffed, and Thomas feared that he would drown, his lungs burning as he desperately held onto his breath as he continued to sink. Then the soldier that had pushed him dived down to grab his arm once more and pull him up to the surface, guiding Thomas over to a group of police cars once they both caught their breath and managed to dodge all of the diving soldiers.

     Teresa was there, violently pushed into the backseat of a police car, two soldiers entering from both sides before slamming the doors shut, cutting off her insults and shrieks. Thomas clambered out of the pool with the soldier’s help as the car Teresa was in drove off, and a group of soldiers crowded the edge of the pool, pulling out other soldiers to safety and diving in when a soldier wasn’t making it to the surface. Those acts of selflessness got Thomas to think that MAYBE the soldiers weren’t bad people, before three soldiers grabbed Thomas by the arms and dragged him over to an amored police car.

     Janson sat in the passenger seat, smiling as always at Thomas, and the rage that had subsided boiled up to the surface once more. Yet before the soldiers could shove a struggling Thomas into the police car, a rumbling caught everyone’s attention, and all the soldiers not helping with the pool just stared in shock as a burning building crumbled at the base and descended onto the building. Soldiers were still jumping out of the hole, and screams could be heard as the building Thomas had just been in collapsed. Thomas’ mouth hung open in shock, and even as the soldiers shoved him into the car and drove off while he was strapped to the seat, Thomas kept replaying the scene of the collapsing building inside his mind.

_I could have been one of those screaming soldiers._ Thomas was so relieved and shocked that he made it out alive that he almost didn’t hear Janson talk to the soldiers. “Did you give Thomas the sedative yet?”

     That was when Thomas’ heart began to beat faster. “Anthony?” the soldier to Thomas’ right asked. Thomas could imagine the left soldier—Anthony—roll his eyes.

     “Fine.” Anthony pulled out the black thing that Janson had used earlier and slapped it onto Thomas’ neck. He waited a few seconds before pulling it out, and by that time Thomas was already whoozy. Thomas began to sway, his head drooping as he blinked rapidly, trying to fight off the sedative.

     Janson began talking once more, but Thomas couldn’t make out any of it as he was already about to lose his fight. Thomas vainly fought off the sedative, before the adrenaline with the building wore off entirely and his tiredness of the whole fiasco along with the sedative finally took over. Thomas was out like a light before the car even turned the first corner, navigating through the burning streets and the angry people screaming as they ran throughout the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this was bad. But this is something I wanted to do and I am not going to stand down because you don’t even know me. How could you possibly be like, “Hey, M/N, why did you write this? You fucking suck at writing!”
> 
> And yes, I am. But that does not mean I will stand by and allow myself to bow down to the haters’ wishes. And why am I even ranting when nobody reads my stories anyways? Anyways, I support Pewds and I want everyone to subscribe to PewDiePie!
> 
> If you even decide to click on this story. Which I can guarantee most of you won’t even give this story a second glance, much less a glance at all. And I hope none of you will ever read this.


	2. A Somewhat Creepy Interaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lily Bird Flower MAKES ALL OF THE NOTES, NOT ME.
> 
> Hey, sorry that I haven’t come out with this chapter, I sort of thought no one would like it. But people actually came by and said that they liked it, even though I thought it was absolute bullshit. Sorry for the cussing, but there will be cussing in pretty much all of my stories. So, I’m gonna cuss.
> 
> Anyways, I just wanted to say that I have finals, and all that stupid crap. Well, more like semester exams, but everyone calls it finals at my school so... The more you know.
> 
> If anyone has a great intro, I would really appreciate it.

     My eyes popped open, and I took in a deep breath, jumping off whatever I was laying on. Or rather, I tried. What ended up happening was that I slammed my entire body back onto the soft yet hard thing I was on, preventing me from even getting off the damn thing. The steady sound of beeping grew more frantic and faster, and my panic rose along with it. 

     I pull and pull, trying to just get up off what I know is a hospital bed at a glance, and still no progress. Then I decide to glance at my wrists. “Fuck,” I mutter, pulling my wrists against the restraints on the bed that were the exact same when Teresa was taking my blood. The beeping grew louder.

     So, testing out the restraints, I yank my wrists back. Nothing happens, nothing snaps or breaks, and my wrists don’t even hurt. I pull again. Still nothing. Soon enough, if anyone walked in they would think I was mad by how I yanked and pulled and yelled. The beeping didn’t stop, beeping rapidly with how fast I breathed. 

     Of course, all I did was end up tiring myself out. I leaned back against the chair, the beeping slowing down, feeling more rested than I ever had been in the entire life that I remember, despite being in WCKD’s clutches. _Wait, what?_ The back of my head throbbed as I tried to remember what had went down that entire night. That was my first mistake.

     Every detail of Newt’s death came flooding over the dam, and tears streamed down as I gasped for air. The beeps once again ascended, and it didn’t help at all. It never felt like enough, and I was left gasping like a fish out of water, choking on my sobs and pulling on the restraints. Everything was so perfect, and I felt a desire to tear the whole thing down, anger flooding my entire body on how _loud_ the beeping was, how _lifeless_ this place was. 

_How can the world be like this? HOW CAN THE WORLD JUST MOVE ON WHEN NEWT DIED?!_ My hands balled into fists, and my sharp fingernails dug into the palm of my hand as I tried to regulate my breathing. But the air seemed to leave too quickly, rushing out too fast, and my head felt light and woozy.

     The click of heels hitting the floor started out soft, so soft that I thought it was part of my imagination. Then it grew louder, so loud that I couldn’t hear anything else. Then it stopped, right outside a door I didn’t even see until the familiar sound of a card slipping through a slot reached my ears. My breathing by now was less erratic, but it was still deep and heavy, and I still felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen. 

     Then the door opened. The beeping wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t breathe, and Newt had died and I couldn’t do anything and _why am I still here_ and _what did I do to deserve to live and not Newt_ and-! “Calm him down!” 

     Soothing words went in one ear and out the other as I saw a female hold a syringe. My heart beat faster at seeing this, and I yanked my arms back and screamed, thrashing as much as I could. People started yelling, holding my legs down and trying to keep me from squirming. “Keep his arms from moving!” the lady shouted, and the hands complied.

     “No! Leave me alone! I don’t want this!” The tears had all dried up, but my throat was still ready to scream. And so I did.

     Winston looking up weakly. “Don’t let me turn into one of them.” A gunshot. Newt over him bringing down a knife, yelling. “Sorry, Tommy.” 

     A sharp prick brought me back, and a hand ran through my hair. “Thomas. Can you hear me?” Breathing heavily, I turned and squinted at the figure. “I need you to listen to me.”

     “Teresa?” My voice was hoarse and I could feel the after-effects of screaming as loud as I could. I subconsciously lifted my hand to rub my throat, but it was stopped by the restraint. The beeping had slowed down, and it felt like a countdown until I could be free from this place. 

     “Thomas, listen. Calm down.” Her voice put enphasis on each syllable, and I found myself hanging off of her every word. “Please.”

     My breathing leveled off, the beeping slow and quiet, and Teresa let out a sigh of what I think was relief. “Thank you, Thomas.” A rather familiar man stepped into my view, and the lights were so bright I had to blink rapidly to see anything properly, and my eyes felt so crusty as I blinked.

     “Teresa?” It wasn’t really a question, more of a silent order or threat. I felt on edge, wanting to bolt and stretch my legs again, feeling the air rush past. The beeping seemed to read my fear, and it started to beep more rapidly, echoing the thumps of my heart.

_I think Teresa is giving him a glare._ It was hard to tell as my vision was blurring, but Teresa didn’t really seem to like the man well. “You’re scaring Thomas.” Her words dripped with acid, and her posture was like that of a threatened snake.

     The man, who’s face was in shadows for me, chuckled softly, and it only got my heart beating faster, the beeping following suit. “Oh, but I came here to say hi while he was still awake. After all, I have to get to know my new lab rat, don’t I?” _BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEE—_

     Teresa and I both jumped -though I had more of a violent flinch- when the man leaned over and pulled the black thing - _a plug_ my mind helpfully provides- out of some white thing -my mind is saying _a socket_ \- violently. The beeping cuts off, but my heart takes its place, beating wildly in my chest. “There, that’s better.” 

     A male in a lab coat walks into my vision and also visibly dislikes what the shadow face did. “Sir, you must keep the monitor plugged in at all times.” The male reaches down and grabs the plug, and plugs it back in before pivoting on his heel and leaving. “You should be taking better care of your ‘precious lab rat.’”

     Teresa’s jaw clenches, but she and I stay quiet. Shadow face says nothing, doesn’t even acknowledge the other male, just choosing to stare at me. _I think so. It’s hard to tell when shadow face’s face is covered with shadows._  

     Another prick in my other arm this time gives me a rather welcome distraction. Until I watch in horror as my blood is being taken. The monitor, as the male helpfully provided for me, was starting to pick up some more speed with the beeps, and my breath started to quicken. Shadow face pulls the plug in annoyance again, and this time the male does nothing, simply clenches his jaw and cradles the syringe that holds my blood in his hand.

     A black female this time, who looks just _so familiar_ walks up to Teresa, hands clasped in front of her. “Teresa?” Teresa looks away from shadow face, a polite smile plastered on her face. 

     “Yes?” Shadow face didn’t look away for even a second, and my eyes had actually gotten used to the lighting enough that I could see his mouth curved into a smile. _He looks so familiar_.

     “We need you to help us make a new batch of the cure.” Teresa’s smile was strained now, no longer easily held. “After all,” the female continued, “you’re the only one that knows how to make it right now.” 

     “Of course.” Teresa hesitated as she got up, as if she couldn’t bring herself to leave me with shadow face, and I wish she didn’t leave. Shadow face frowned, and for a split second I saw him holding a gun, aimed at Teresa, pulling the trigger and-! _No, that never happened, Teresa was dragged away by some guards. She never was shot, and she hopefully won’t be._

     But I couldn’t help but notice a bandage peeking out from underneath Teresa’s jeans. She had a slight limp, but I could hardly notice it, so it happened a while ago. “Do you have the tranquilizer?” Shadow face’s face turned to look at the doctor he was speaking to, and I could see some of his face now.

     “Janson.” I breathed it out, so soft that not even Janson himself heard me say it.

     “Yeah, it’s right here.” A balding, bearded doctor walked closer to me, this time carrying a syringe with something inside of it. My breath rose, and if the monitor had been hooked up Janson would have bashed it as I kicked my legs and struggled against Janson’s grip. The doctor shuffled closer, wary of me as he stilled my arm and lowered the needle into my vein. I went completely still, feeling my face pale as I helplessly watched the liquid rush into me.

     Already I could feel my limbs go limp, my breathing regulating and getting deeper. Janson sat down once more and just observed my struggle to stay awake. “You can leave, now.” The doctor, understanding that this was an order, nodded and left the room, taking the medical cart that I didn’t notice before with him.

     Newt popped up, the black liquid trickling down his chin as he stepped away from me, the knife in his chest. A hand gently grabbed my cheek, the thumb wiping away the tears I didn’t even notice coming down. “There, there. No need to cry.” Janson gave me that annoying smile that he always had on whenever I saw him, that smug smile that always irritated me and got under my skin.

_This bastard DARES to say that? Even though he most definitely knows Newt DIED?!_ I glared at him, eye twitching from annoyance and I could almost _feel_ Janson’s smugness grow.

     “Remember when I said I would take good care of you?” I was repulsed by the way Janson leaned forward, and leaned back as much as I could, every second my vision darkening. Janson didn’t seem to care at all. “Well, I meant every single last word.”

     His hand caressed my cheek, a parody of a lover’s. “Don’t be sad, Tommy, your friends will be here with you soon.” What was left of my vision was stained red. _How DARE he use that nickname?!_ I let a growl out, not caring how animalistic I acted at this point.

     Janson lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Oh, touched a soft spot, didn’t I?” I feel so tired, and I just let my head rest on the bed, not even batting an eye at how Janson was touching my arm. “All this time trying to kill you, and I end up trying to keep you alive as long as possible.” 

     I just need sleep. I can’t do anything for my friends here yet. But I will find a way to help them, even if it is something as insignificant as delaying the soldiers a second or two. They’re still out there, and probably trying to find me, like the stubborn people they are. I just want sleep.

     My eyes feel heavy, and they wish to close. And I give them that wish. Anything to get away from Janson. That night, I dream of hands chasing me, trying their best to drag me somewhere I don’t want to go. But I outrun them the entire night.

     For I am a runner. I outrun everyone at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry about how much my writing sucks. I actually finished my finals now once I published this, so... I guess I can publish more of these chapters soon enough. See you all in the mext chapter.
> 
> Oh, and can you recommend intros for me? I really need one, and I am not creative enough to come up with one.
> 
> My life is a lie
> 
> I was born in the fall
> 
> And like Humpty Dumpty
> 
> I fell off my wall
> 
> The wall that is my overwhelming need
> 
> To break all the rules that I’ll never heed
> 
> And now that I have broken them all,
> 
> I see that I had burned down my wall.
> 
> (Lily Bird Flower made the poem, not me.)


	3. Escape(?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything that you see after this sentence is over belongs to Lily Bird Flower, none of it belongs to me except for this disclaimer.
> 
> Hello. I don’t know how to start things off, so let’s just say I had multiple sleepovers and a LOT of guests coming over by the time this is posted. So, yeah. Also, I have a lot of chores, so that isn’t helping.
> 
> Anyone who read my only other story so far... You may not like what I will say in that story. Sorry.
> 
> Well, let’s jump right on into the... action?
> 
> Sorry, that was just a new intro that REALLY didn’t work. At all.

     I jolted awake as alarms blared in my ears. “Take Thomas over to _that_ room.” _Janson? What’s going on?_ “They’re going to come for him, and I do _not_ want Thomas to leave this building. And you better not let him out of this building, for _your_ sake.”

_They?_ Everything clicked into place as the alarms continued. _They’re coming for me!_ Pulling and yanking, I tried my best to break free when the door slid open and soldiers entered my room. 

     “Stop struggling or I _will_ shoot you!” I froze as the soldier aims the electric gun at me, the gun whining as it turned on. The other soldiers got to work on my restraints, trying to take it off. 

     Teresa runs into the room, looking around frantically before seeing me. “Thomas!” She runs up to me and I feel something drop into my hand. “There’s something I need to tell you!” 

     “Hey!” Teresa jumps, backing up as she sees the soldier’s gun trained on her. “Don’t move!” Teresa stops, her eyes meeting mine. “Check her.”

     She swallowed nervously as the soldiers examined her pockets and clothing for any weapons or anything suspicious. I use this opportunity to look at the thing in my hand. It was some sort of container that could fit into the syringes that WCKD had, but it didn’t contain the blue liquid that I was used to seeing. I couldn’t see any liquid, actually. 

     I stuffed it into the pocket of my pants, thankful that I have pants with pockets on. The pocket I could easily reach within my restraints, which was a blessing to me, easily hid the tube that was in it, which I was also thankful for. I scanned the soldiers, seeing if any of them saw what I did.

     One of the soldiers was standing in the back, with blue sleeves, out of view of the others, and gave me a thumbs up when none of the others were looking. I visibly relaxed, but then a rather obvious question popped into my mind as I thought about how my friends were doing. _How long was I out?!_  

     I had no way of telling at this point, and I couldn’t ask anyone because the soldiers were back untying me, making sure that I couldn’t run away once they were done. The cold metal of an electric gun nudged the back of my head, and I gulped, nervously keeping all of my actions non threatening. The blue sleeved soldier grabbed my hands and pulled them behind my back, cuffing them and pushing me forward.

     I couldn’t tell which of my friends were the soldier who gave me a thumbs up, but they walked behind me, constantly observing every turn and detail. Then I suddenly had this fear that something happened to Teresa, and I glanced over my shoulder. Teresa wasn’t cuffed, but as I was looking back she was being guided down a different hallway. 

     The only sounds I could hear were the blaring alarms and the soldiers’ footsteps, and occasionally we would pass another group of soldiers. Then sounds of gunshots and yelling could be heard from ahead, and I faltered when memories resurfaced. Newt screaming at me to kill him, Winston shooting himself, running through the burning streets trying to stay alive, and escaping WCKD with Newt and Minho.

     At that time we were passing two soldiers, one with red sleeves and one with green sleeves, and they nodded to the blue sleeved soldier behind me. A hand grabbed my arm and pulled me back, unlocking the cuffs while the other two shot at the three other soldiers that were escorting me someplace. I was dragged through the hallway, going somewhere I didn’t know we were heading, before taking a right and running into two soldiers. It wouldn’t have been a problem, but Janson was there with them. And he was clearly pissed off.

     Janson pulled out his trusty pistol and fired without hesitation, hitting red sleeves in the shoulder, inciting the rest of us that had guns to pull them out. Green sleeves pulled out their own pistol and began firing, the blue sleeved ally quickly shooting and the red sleeved ally running away, dragging me along until I got the message and started running. I could hear the gunshots echoing behind me as I ran, running like cranks were behind me. 

     I could still hear Janson shouting and thundering footsteps, and I could tell that my legs were out of shape. I was panting hard and my legs were already burning, my lungs feeling like they were on fire. Red sleeves was running besides me, the shoulder wound bleeding out. “Come on, Thomas!” _Gally?_

     I wanted to ask so many questions, starting with _How long was I gone for?_ But everything hurt, Janson was still behind us, and we couldn’t spare any time or breath. Gally was clutching the bullet wound, ripping off some cloth in an effort to stop the bleeding.

     Some soldiers cut us off at the other end of the hallway, leaving us at an intersection to turn right or left, and I turned right in blind panic, hearing the elextric guns firing and the ammunition whizzing past me. A fading pair of footsteps alerted me that Gally had turned left instead, and that I was left alone. Well, not completely alone, as blue sleeves and green sleeves came running right with me as well.

     Green sleeves was _fast_ , catching up to me in no time at all. Either that, or I was out of shape. Definitely the latter. Blue sleeves would have caught up to me if they weren’t turning around and shooting at the soldiers chasing us. One soldier was shot in the chest, another the leg, and a third in the stomach, the fourth being grazed at the side. That left us with three soldiers and Janson chasing us down hallways.

     I turned around only once and never again, with green sleeves yelling, “Quick, turn here!” _Minho_. My breaths seemed to leave too quick as I turned left with Minho, blue sleeves following soon after.

     I could see an elevator in front of us, and my body screamed to sit down, but Minho guided me over to the stairs. I had no time to think, for a bullet whizzed past my head, almost hitting Minho in the head. Blue sleeves shot one of the soldiers in the chest, killing the man instantly.

     Ava came to mind, falling to the ground and laying there lifelessly. I probably had slowed down, for Minho was screaming in my face and blue sleeves had caught up, pushing me and yelling as well. I couldn’t recognize the voice, but I didn’t care at this point since they were helping me.

     I stumbled down the stairs and slipped, falling. I flailed for any support, only for the railing to slip through my hand and I was rolling down the flight of stairs, crashing into the railing as blue sleeve shot at the soldiers and Minho pulled me up, pulling out his own gun and shooting as well, yelling at me to leave.

     I was dizzy and swaying to the side, and then I caught Janson’s eye. His eyes were ablaze with fury, and after that I found myself running faster than I ever had before, almost flying down the steps. Minho was running behind me, grabbing his right arm and his gun dropping to the floor. 

     As I reached the end of the steps, one of the soldiers fell off the stairs and onto the floor in front of me. My foot hit the corpse and I crashed to the ground, bouncing back up in a flash and scrambling away from the body. Minho was in front of me, pulling me up and pushing me forward. “Head for the entrance! Go!”

     I stumbled and swayed, not sure where the entrance was. _Is it that door, or the door that’s more secluded?_ I had no idea which door Minho was talking about, so I looked back to see what Minho thought.

     Minho wasn’t there. Only Janson, running after me and calling out my name. “Thomas?!” I couldn’t breathe, my legs wanted to run but my brain wanted to freeze, and everything seemed to fall in on itself.

     I tried to take in more air, but I felt like my lungs wouldn’t take in that air and my legs wanted to run, run away from Janson, run away from everything that reminded me of WCKD and start anew. 

     Not as Thomas, but as someone else. But I had to choose one door or the other.

     The glass doors were in front, and I could see grass and flowers and birds chirping. But the birds weren’t corpses and were flying, the grass and flowers too _alive_ and everything about it didn’t make sense. So I chose the brown door, the one that seemed normal and out of the way. 

     I pulled it open and without thinking about it, I jumped. Nothing was underneath me for a second, and I thought I would die, that my body would crash into the ground as lifeless as Newt and Ava. Then I began rolling down and down a hill. 

     I slowed down as the ground leveled out, and I looked up to see where I was. It was sandy and burning hot, just like the first day out in the Scorch. The air wasn’t stale but fresh, and I smiled at how good it felt to finally relax and be able to sleep. Then the door, which was already open, banged against the wall. 

     I saw Alby, confident and standing tall, like before he was stung. Then I saw Teresa, her eyes sending me a sorrowful look, her jaw set tight, her stance unconfident but sure, like she couldn’t handle my reaction yet felt like she did the right thing. Then I saw Janson staring at me, his jaw clenched as his eyes lit up with rage, his body language confident and sure of himself, and butterflies fluttered frantically in my stomach. Then Janson flickered out, and I saw Minho yelling at me to get up and going.

     Blades slicing through the air and an engine roaring got my tired head to look past where I landed. A Berg was landing, stirring up sand, and people began running out of it. I recognized Aris and Vince and Brenda, but the other two were strangers. 

     The male had not dark but not exactly light brown hair, with the tips the color of sand, and his eyes were a bright and vibrant green. The girl’s hair was completely blond, her eyes a much more darker blue. I hated them, I wanted them to go away, to stay away. I backed away from them, not wanting anything to do with those two. 

     Then I heard a thud and turned around, hoping that Minho had just dropped a bag or something. But Minho was on the ground, rolling down the hill, his body jerking as he was electrocuted. A soldier was running down the hill, aiming his gun at us and getting closer to shoot.

     Brenda and Vince grasped at my arms and pulled me onto my feet, getting me to run away. “Go and get Minho!” The strangers, thank the universe, nodded and followed Vince’s order, grabbing Minho by the arms and dragging him towards the Berg.

     I ran a bit before falling to the ground, my legs so tired that I couldn’t even support myself anymore. Brenda yelped and Vince grunted, both of them doing their best to get me to the Berg. My bare feet felt the floor shift from hot, soft sand to cold, hard metal, and the last view I had of Minho was the strangers having dragged Minho to the entrance of the Berg and the soldier getting closer to the Berg. A blur, which I think was Aris, ran past me to hopefully help the strangers with Minho.

     Gunshots rang through the air once Brenda and Vince had set me down on one of the seats in the Berg, and Brenda grabbed a pistol off her belt as she, too rushed out of the Berg. Aris and the strangers dragged Minho onto the bench opposite me and they, too left the Berg, guns in hand. After they left, all that could be heard was the occasional gunshot. The silence was torturing me, and every gunshot could be one of my friends dying by Janson’s hands. I silently hoped that Janson was the one receiving the bullet, wishing that I could be there to see his body collapse onto the floor.

     Gally limped onto the Berg, applying pressure on his bullet wound, Brenda helping to disinfect it. I have no idea how Gally had managed to get out of the building, and I was too spent to care. I leaned my head back and took a deep breath, hoping that Teresa made it out okay.

     Honestly, I just wanted bygones to be bygones and just wanted everyone to make it out alive. _Except for Janson_. Yeah, Janson was an exception. But I didn’t want to kill anyone else. I want everyone to be able to live another day. 

_But that will never happen as long as the Flare is out there_. I sigh and run a hand through my hair, realizing that it was pretty clean despite not having woken up to clean myself. Actually, everything was really clean. Except for the sand, everything was cleaner than they should be if I was never taken out of my restraints. 

_So I was there long enough to be cleaned. That doesn’t help at all_. It was so hard to breathe, feeling like it took all of my energy just to take a breath. Gally took sat next to me, flinching as he gently lowered himself onto the bench.

     “Hey, you doing all right?” I couldn’t respond. I was out of shape and I wasn’t able to do anything but breathe. Gally snapped in front of my face. _As if that’s going to make me feel better_.

     “Gally!” Vince said something else, but I didn’t pay attention. Everything was blurry and darker than it should be, like shadows were covering the entire place. My eyelids felt like they were moving through syrup, and I forced my eyelids to come back up again, fearing the darkness. Fearing I wouldn’t wake up again.

     I think Brenda came back. _Or was it blue sleeves? Maybe Frypan? Or it could be Newt—Oh._

     At first, it felt like the hole already in my chest was widening painfully, trying its best to make me suffer. But then I just felt hollow, and numb. It took longer to blink, and even longer to just breathe. Arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the bench and onto a mattress?

     The strangers peered down at me, their faces flooding with pity. Anger pooled in my gut. _What do they know? What, am I something to pity now, to feel bad about and then help out just because I look PITIFUL? DO I LOOK HELPLESS TO THEM?!_  

     My breaths quickened, as my lungs felt deprived of oxygen. _Seems like nowadays I’m having lots of trouble getting oxygen_. The gunshots became louder, as if they were right outside the Berg. I don’t exactly understand what happened, as I sort of drifted off.

     The Berg made it out with little problems, though a handful of soldiers had gotten on. The soldiers were on our team, though I still feel wary about the strangers that carried Minho, which I am going to call the Sand Twins. They just give off this weird vibe, and the female kept looking at her nails and feet, like she was anticipating something to happen in those areas. 

     “Thomas?” I rapidly blinked, pushing away some of my fatigue, focusing on Teresa. She held out her hand to me, waiting for me to do something. “The capsule. I need it.” 

     I tried to get my hand to pull it out, but all I managed to do was lift my hand a few centimeters, and I felt like a failure. I swallowed, preparing my sore throat for speech. “In...po—et...”

     Teresa leaned forward, moving a hand behind her ear. Heat rushed to my face, and I fought to push it down while also fighting to stay awake _and_ to breathe normally. “Pock...et.”

     “Oh!” Teresa stufffed a hand down one pocket, moving it around before pulling it out, having picked the wrong pocket. She stuffed it down the other one and fished out the capsule, the inside rather...empty, really. “Just wait here, Thomas. I just need to grab something.”

     Teresa sped off to another part of the Berg -which is WAY bigger than I remember it being- with the capsule in hand. Brenda, whom had longer hair and cleaner clothes/skin, walked up to me. I realized then that _everyone_ was cleaner and more...fresh, for lack of a better word.

     She gave me a small smile, and everyone that could stand was soon surrounding me, feeding the small fear from all the attention and lack of space. “Hey, Thomas.” I opened my mouth to say something, blinking from the dust in the air—“Goodnight, Thomas.”

     I was caught off guard. _What?_ Everyone was walking around with some sheets and something for the head, like a comfy bag or a bundle of extra sheets, laying on the benches and huddling close for sleep. I was the only one left all alone on my own bench, a comfy sheet beneath my head and another over me. “Go-Goodnight,” I replied.

     The lights turned off after a couple of minutes, and the only noises one could hear afterwards was that of people shuffling and turning, complaining about room or the blankets sometimes. But it was mostly silent, giving Thomas perfectly ample time to contemplate what happened.

_What did Teresa want to get?_ Closing my eyes tight, I went through everything that I could remember, trying to make sense of what happened. But everything after Brenda said “Hey, Thomas.” was a complete blank.

     I sighed silently, not wanting to wake anyone else up. I closed my eyes and let my worn out body finally get some rest. Hands chased me again in this dream, trying to drag me someplace where my friends couldn’t reach me. But I outran them the entire time, feeling as if freedom was in _my_ hands. 

     Until Teresa tripped me. Then I woke up, a light gasp echoing through the Berg. I felt angry at Teresa, feeling betrayed again as I could still feel the hands grabbing my legs, arms, torso, dragging me away somewhere I don’t want to be. _It was just a dream. She didn’t actually trip me and basically hand me over to the hands_.

     But I still couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, this chapter was a bit longer than the others. Yay! Anyways, I really enjoy weiting this story and hope to continue this as well as write a new story. So, expect more chapters in the future.
> 
> I’ll see you all in the next chapter. Or story, whichever.
> 
> Poem 1:
> 
> Roses are red
> 
> My lips are blue
> 
> Death is coming
> 
> But I love you
> 
> Poem 2:
> 
> Your blood is red
> 
> Violets are blue
> 
> I am coming
> 
> I still love you
> 
> Poem 3:
> 
> Your blood is red
> 
> Your lips are blue
> 
> Death loves you, still
> 
> But I hate you
> 
> End of Poems
> 
> Were my poems great? Say so in the review which one is your favorite so far, and what you think of them.
> 
> P.S. I would love to hear your theories of the meaning behind the poems, so if you want to, write what you think the poem is saying.


	4. The Eye of The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before shit hits the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me except for the disclaimer and the chapter summary. Everything else belongs to Lily Bird Flower.
> 
> Hello! The last chapter was pretty confuzzling. I know that, and I wrote it that way because Thomas was confuzzled. You are in Thomas’ point of view, which means when Thomas is confuzzled, you should be confuzzled instead of being omnipotent or something. Which is why I wrote it that way.
> 
> And yes, Thomas is having hallucinations of Janson. There is a reason, but you have to wait until Thomas knows the reason. Which won’t be for a while. And yes, there is a reason behind Thomas’ forgetfulness.
> 
> It might not be a pleasant one, but it’s a reason. Anyways, I need to stop talking, and start writing about the story.
> 
> Anyways, poems are down below, as always, and without further ado, let’s begin!
> 
> (If anyone understands where I got that from, you need to get a life.)

     I blearily opened my eyes, feeling rested and relaxed. Remembering what I could remember from last night, I turned my head to the side, and noticed that nobody was there. Scratch that, Teresa was the only one there, with her tiny lab set up in a corner of the wooden hut. “Teresa.” I winced mentally at how weak and scratchy my voice was, but Teresa heard me and lifted her head away from whatever she was doing.

     “Thomas.” Her smile was fake, plastered on just like with the black female nurse that had walked up to her. “You’re finally awake.” Teresa didn’t sound that happy, but at least she made an effort to try. Large eye bags were prominent on her face, something I didn’t understand until my brain helpfully robided what eye bags meant.

     Swallowing, I once again prepared my voice to talk. “Why aren’t you asleep?” Teresa looked back down at what she was doing with the chemicals, blinking slowly as if she was questioning what she was doing.

     “Because I need to make this.” My eye twitched in irritation, annoyed by how vague her answer was. _She could become the next Riddler_. I blinked, not sure what that meant but not really caring, knowing that it was an insult of some kind.

     “Can’t you at least tell me?” My throat didn’t feel sore anymore, and I made a mental note of that. “What did you want to get on the Berg?” 

     Teresa blankly stared at me, fully conscious of what I was saying. “Excuse me?” I didn’t understand what that meant, but I honestly didn’t care. “I don’t understand what-!”

     “Slim it.” Teresa shut up after that, not even trying to defend herself, which starkly contrasted her personality before he was caught. Writing another observation, I continued. “You took the capsule from me, saying for me to wait and that you were just getting something. What was it?”

     Teresa muttered something under her breath, and my eyes narrowed. “What did you just say?” 

     “I said I was getting something to help you breathe better.” Teresa glared me down, clearly not going to say anything more on the subject.

     “Okay, fine. I just have one more question.” Teresa didn’t object, so I asked, “How long was I in WCKD?” 

     Teresa looked away from me, silently judging whether or not she should tell me. _It’s my right to know how long I was trapped for._ She sighed and her shoulders drooped, betraying how tired she really was. “You were in there for a year and three months, I think.”

     I could feel my mouth hanging like an idiot, but I didn’t care. “A whole _year and three months_?!” Teresa nodded, not meeting my eyes, instead choosing to stare at her lab equipment.“So I was kept under for an entire _year and three months_?”

     This time Teresa looked at me like I suddenly grew horns and wings. “You weren’t kept under the entire time you were there. Janson...” She left the sentence hanging, clearly uncomfortable with what she was going to say.

     “What?” I gripped the edge of my bed and lifted myself into a sitting position, sighing at how _good_ it felt to stretch and move again. But I stayed on task, wanting to know what Teresa was going to say about Janson. “What about Janson?” 

     Teresa’s long hair hid her face from me as she turned back to her “lab.” “Teresa, I’m waiting.” As she turned back to me, my heart sank, for she was desperately holding back tears.

     “Thomas...I, I couldn’t stop him, I couldn’t save myself and I couldn’t even help you. I’m such a failure!” The tears she withheld became too much and she started sobbing where she stood.

     I pushed the sheets off of me and swung my legs over the side of the bed, carefully testing out whether I could stand or not. Once I knew I could stand, I walked over to her corner and hugged her, trying to help her calm down. She sobbed into my shoulder, saying things like “I couldn’t do it,” and “I should have kept you away from him.”

     Minho entered the little hut with panic on his face, thinking something had happened to Teresa. He saw me hugging Teresa, trying to help her, and our eyes met. “Teresa. what happened?” Minho walked over to us and I took a step back, giving Minho more space. He placed a hand on Teresa’s shoulder, getting Teresa to look up at him, her eyes red from the tears. 

     “Teresa, what did they do to you?” Teresa shook her head, implying that she couldn’t tell us.

     “I can’t talk about that. But I’m not crying because they did something to _me_.” She at last met my eyes, and held them. “I’m crying because I couldn’t help Thomas when he needed someone to be on his side, and instead I just _watched_ what Janson did to him.”

_What? What did Janson do to me?_ Minho was standing there, his confusion in plain view, and I guess my face was the same because Teresa sniffled and looked down, shaking her head. 

     “I...I really can’t talk right now.” Teresa made for the exit, but I reached out and took ahold of her shoulder.

     “Teresa.” She wouldn’t look at me anymore, instead she turned her face away from me. “What did Janson do to me?” Teresa stubbornly refused to even glance at me, let alone answer. “Teresa, I deserve to know what happened to me while I was in WCKD.”

     Teresa stood there silently for a moment, her shoulders rigid as if she was a deer in headlights, before her shoulders sagged in defeat. She trudged over to her lab station and drew out the capsule that I gave to her yesterday. It was empty. _Wait..._

     I narrowed my eyes and took a sharp intake of breath when I saw that no, it wasn’t empty. It just _looked_ empty, but actually had a clear liquid inside. “This is a memory wipe. It wipes away—It—I’m sorry, they...” Teresa’s mouth didn’t seem to want to work.

     I took both of her shoulders, looking her right in the eye. “Teresa, did they do anything to you?” Teresa shrugged off my hands, looking down.

     “No. I—I’m fine.” The tone she held made it very clear that she wanted us to slim it. Teresa took in a shuddery breath. “I just don’t like talking about this, but I’m fine.”

     She cleared her throat and continued where she left off. “This memory wipe, when taken into the body, will wipe away memories from then to a few hours later. They—They forced me to...make these every day, alongside the cure.”

     She looked down at her feet, shuffling a bit before speaking. “When you guys were breaking in, I had been forced to show the nurses and doctors how to make the cure, and then I was going to...die.” Her voice broke at the end, and she blinked rapidly to keep the tears in. “Anyways, I was going to die before Sonya came in and saved me. But that was all that happened.” 

     “They,” Teresa spoke slowly, swallowing as she fought to speak, “ _Janson_ wanted me to make the memory wipes, me specifically. So he could—could—do things without people remembering. So that you couldn’t remember your stay.”

_Why? Why wouldn’t he want me to remember?_ “Wait, but _what_ did he do?” Teresa paused, her hands and knees shaking.

     “Hey, it’s alright if you don’t want to say anything,” Minho said, giving Teresa a way out of the torture she was going through. 

     “No.” She spat out that word with enough force to blast down a wall. “I need to say it. Thomas deserves to know what he went through.”

     “Thomas.” I focused in on Teresa, not caring about anything else by this point. “I was the one who had to administer the memory wipe, and then take your blood. Then, he...he...would hit you, force you down onto the ground and...and he would choke you, making you go through _torture_ before he would just, _not_ be Janson. He would become an entirely different person the next day, being nice and gentle, saying such _horrible_ things about our friends, saying that they forgot you and that they _hate_ you, such things that I began to combine the sedative with the memory wipe so you wouldn’t remember anything about what he said or did.” 

     Here Teresa shivered, her legs giving out and she crumpled onto the floor. “Teresa!” Minho rushed to her side, placing two fingers to her neck before slapping her face. “Thomas, get some water and splash it on her face!”

     I looked around before seeing a bucket of water for...things, which had been left untouched. I heaved it up over Teresa’s head before dumping the water on her face. She gasped and sat up so fast she hit her head against Minho’s unsuspecting face. 

     “Ow!” both shouted at the same time, clutching their heads in pain. 

     “Minho, you alright?” Minho nodded, his forehead a bright red. I get up, not really sure what to do at this point, so I move on to Teresa. “Teresa?” She hesitated before looking up at me, seeming so vulnerable. “Are you okay?”

     She nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” Teresa opened her mouth, as if to say something, but she closed it again and didn’t say anything. 

     Her face looked so conflicted. A headache formed and I wanted to take a look outside, see how everyone else was doing. But my legs felt so tired and weak, and when I tried to walk to the door my legs burned as if I ran for an hour, leaving me to collapse onto the floor. 

     “Thomas!” I was rolled over, breathing like I ran a marathon, my tongue feeling strangely smooth against the roof of my mouth. Teresa was there, opening my mouth and clapping a hand against her mouth in horror. She allowed Minho to push her out of the way, standing there for a bit before running out of the hut.

     Minho felt my chest and frowned, laying a hand on the left side for a bit. He placed two fingers against my neck after that, feeling for something that I don’t really know. His frown deepened, with a worried look overtaking his face. Something was crawling up and down my legs, urging me to scratch my legs, but my back burned whenever I tried to sit up.

     “Thomas, stop trying to sit up.” I listened to Minho, trusting him down to my core. “Here, let’s get you back up on that bed.” Minho heaved me up onto the bed with a grunt, getting me as comfy as possible.

     The crawling never stopped, and the itching seemed to grow worse. My legs wanted to constantly move, my mouth was dry, a headache was pounding away at my skull, and my legs still burned from trying to walk out of the hut. People ran in and out, trying to make me feel better but not really knowing how to. The strangers sat at my bedside, looking inside my mouth, pulling down my eyelids, looking inside my ears, at my fingernails, feeling my hands and feet, and asking me how I felt.

     “I feel like shit.” They just looked at each other like I missed a joke or something. The female looked back at me and asked me to _elaborate_.

     I rolled my eyes, but answered anyways. “I have a headache, I feel like I just ran away from Grievers ten times in a row, and it feels like something is crawling up and down my legs.” They nodded and carved something into this piece of wood, telling me that they also used to work in WCKD before they saw what they were doing to me and other immunes, so they decided to help.

     Apparently they were doctors in practice or whatever, so they should be able to work out what is happening to me, and Teresa may be able to contribute. But they told me to stay in bed, do not move, and ask if I need anything. Then they left, with me feeling shitty and with little hope that they will find anything. Then something they said hit me.

_“Yeah, we saw what they were doing to you and the other immunes, so we wanted to help.”_ That was what the female said, but according to what Teresa had said there were no other immunes being held. So they were with WCKD when Teresa was working there, but until they saw what they were doing to _me_ , _that_ was when they decided to help? Something just felt... _off_ , but I couldn’t exactly say it without looking paranoid.

     Teresa and the strangers’ stories feel _off_ in a way that I just cannot explain. “Oh, slim it, Thomas,” I whisper to myself. “Nothing’s wrong, those strangers are just Greenie’s, nothing else.”

     No matter how many times I spoke to myself, I just couldn’t help but see those Greenies in the same light as Janson. I wouldn’t trust anyone blindly again, ever since the betrayal of not just Janson and all of the doctors there, but Teresa’s as well. Never again will I let myself stay blind to the evil in people. 

     I just can’t lose anyone ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Nice to finally post this chapter out. Does anyone like where this story is going? Because I know where this is going, and Thomas does have a serious problem. Wait, why am I saying anything about that? You already know that Thomas is probably sick with something other than the Flare.
> 
> Seriously, did they cure every other disease like the cold or the flu? Because nobody is sick unless they have the Flare. Well, sign me up for that world as an immune and I’ll welcome this world.
> 
> Anyways, hope you guys have a happy winter, or summer, depending on where you live. I’ll see you in the next chapter/story.
> 
> Poem:
> 
> My life is a lie
> 
> I was born in the fall
> 
> And like my poor sister
> 
> Demons burned down my wall
> 
> My wall that protected me from all sorts of things
> 
> And kept me above the depression they bring
> 
> And now that my life is becoming a myth
> 
> I see that I was a fool to begin with
> 
> End of Poem
> 
> Yes, I know that it resembles a poem from earlier, and honestly I love that poem. But I wanted to write this poem, to change it without permanently destroying the other poem. So this is what I came up with.
> 
> Why am I explaining myself to you? I can do what I want, and most of you won’t ever care about these poems anyways. I could write crappy poems and none of you would even care about that. But I an not going to write crap poems because my story is already crap and I want a little cherry to go along with the crap you already read. So, there’s your cherry, and enjoy!


	5. Hurt Thomas (Filler)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just where Thomas is sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me except for the disclaimer and the chapter summary. Everything else belongs to Lily Bird Flower.
> 
> Okay, so I just have to say that this chapter is just filler. Nothing else. Not really contributing to the plot and will probably be very short. Just saying.
> 
> So, here we go!

     I was forced to stay in bed, examined day in and day out as my condition seemed to get worse. My heart had forgotten its beat, and was constantly fluctuating in the rhythm it was beating to. My skin was pale and my tongue was smooth, not to mention also pale. Cold hands and feet was the least of my worries, as I was constantly dizzy or having massive headaches. And whenever I would try to walk, my legs would burn from the effort, leaving me bed-ridden.

     I was consistently tired, craving dirt, mouth almost always dry, and there were sore red cracks at the corners of my mouth. This strange and frankly unpleasant crawling sensations wouldn’t leave my legs unless I moved them, and if I let my legs rest it would start up again. But if I kept moving my legs I would get really tired and forced to stop moving, and then the sensations would come back. And the anxiety was the worst.

     I was seeing Janson at the worst times, sneering at me or saying the worst things about my friends, and he appeared so many times I started to think that maybe, just maybe, what he was saying about my frienda were true. That Newt killed himself because he couldn’t bear me anymore, that Minho would abandon me at any moment, that Teresa would rat me out to WCKD, and that everyone I trusted would stab me in the back for their own survival. It started to show, and they were worried for me, and I knew that the things about everyone that I knew stabbing me in the back or abandoning me weren’t true.

     But the fears of Teresa and the Sand Twins just wouldn’t go away. They seemed to get worse. If I even saw the Sand Twins near a knife I would do anything to take the weapon away and have a panic attack if I couldn’t do it. Teresa was the worst, for I couldn’t trust her with anything and would talk with her for as long as I could before she would leave. I was paranoid and I knew it, but talking about it with the Sand Twins or Teresa was a big no-no, for they could use it as a reason to keep me in here, or worse, get rid of me.

     I just ended up stressing myself out, and it wasn’t helping me fight off what was wrong with me. I just got more dizzy and headaches were so frequent that I couldn’t even move about on my bed without help. Teresa couldn’t even look at me anymore, tearing up and running out, and that was when I noticed how I was affecting others. 

     Everyone was horrified at how bad I was, and they were stressed out the longer I went on like this. I couldn’t talk anymore from the pain, and I was always sleeping to try and keep the pain away. Teresa started trying out different things, trying her best to take care of me, though she wasn’t very optimistic. 

     Then, I woke up feeling only a little dizzy. That was three months after we escaped WCKD. Three months of torture. Of feeling not-so-well. I wasn’t able to even walk outside, courtesy of Teresa, but I was able to walk around the hut with the help of others around me. Since I felt like I shouldn’t ask people to help me, I never walked about the hut and just stayed in bed all day.

     Teresa had been talking with the Sand Twins more often. She seemed to be on the fence about something, and would always look back at me when talking. But now she wasn’t talking to them anymore, spending more time trying to get me to eat soybeans and baked fruits.

     That is where I am now, my meals consisting of soybeans, baked fruit, and peas. We ran out of animals to eat long ago. So, all we had was some fruit and different types of vegetables, but I was only allowed those meals that I listed out before. To help me feel better. 

     The door opened, and a flash of sunlight entered the hut, beckoning me to go outside, and I could hear the splashes of waves and laughing. Then Teresa shut the door behind her, blocking out anything of the outside world and wiping some sweat off of her forehead. “It’s getting a little hot out there.” She pulled out a stool, dragging it along the dirt floor before coming to a rest by my head, sitting down on the stool with some soybeans and cooked fruits. “How are you feeling?”

     I took the fruits, purposefully leaving the soybeans on the tray that they had obviously stolen from the city that WCKD is now residing in. “Like shit. It doesn’t feel like it’s helping anymore.” I took a bite out of one of the baked fruits (which was an apple), chewing thoughtfully before taking another bite.

     “Well, that...” The sentence was left hanging in the air, and we both knew how it would end. She got up and gave me the soybeans, glaring when I moved to dump it on the floor. “Eat the soybeans. If I find them on the floor, I’ll force feed you.”

     I nodded fast, knowing that despite the dizzyness that I was feeling was now worse, she would go through with that threat. She smiled and ruffled my hair. “I’ll be back with some water, okay?” Teresa opened the door and let out a long sigh. “We seriously need to get you a window, the air is so stale here.”

     Scoffing, I said, “Don’t I know it?” The door closed, and I was left to myself. My vision blurred constantly, but it was normal now.

     “Hey, Tommy.” I shut my eyes tightly, gripping the sheets and taking a shuddery breath. _He’s not real. He’s not real._

     Footsteps, and then a dip in the bed. It felt like he was really there, but I knew better. It was just an hallucination. The arms circling around me, the man nuzzling into my neck, the breath tickling me, it was all fake. Nothing was real. He wasn’t real. 

     “Tommy, look at me.” It was so hard not to look at the man hugging me, the growl that he made sounding as if he was really there. _But he’s not there. He’s on the other side of the ocean._  

     “Tommy.” I felt his grip tighten, and I bit my lip. I shouldn’t look at him, he’s just fake. But my eyelids opened up anyways, and I saw his smile widen. “I love your eyes. They’re just as beautiful as the rest of you.”

     My entire body shuddered, and I closed my eyes again. He growled in my ears, and I shivered even more. “Look at me, Tommy.” I shouldn’t. I won’t. 

     I refused, and pushed where I felt he was, but all that I pushed was empty air. All of him faded away, but I could still remember, still feel where he had touched me.

     Teresa found me on the floor trying to crawl to the door, my skin bruised from where I crashed into the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, remember, this is just a filler. But I like writing this chapter because all it does is just fill you in. It doesn’t do anything else. I like this.
> 
> See you in the next story/chapter.
> 
> Poem:
> 
> My heart feels like ice
> 
> The lonely is chasing me
> 
> Can you stop them?
> 
> I just want to be free.


	6. I’m Back to Square One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing in this story is mine, except for the disclamer. Everything else belongs to Lily Bird Flower and the author/director of the books/movies.
> 
> Hi! This is probably going to take a while before I post this, so I just want to say that it is my fault, because I need to make the chapters feel less like shit. All of my stories just feel like shit, never good enough, never slow enough, always too fast, too boring, too much action and less character development, too little dialogue, too much dialogue, characters always on the run, never explaining enough, explaining too much, etc.
> 
> Do you see how much I go through when writing these stories? I always feel like nobody likes my stories, they all hate it, I hate it, and when people say they like the story I need to publish this chapter right now, make it better, less like shit, need to work harder, faster, stop and just write more, make the chapter long, keep it from being short, think of something to make the story more interesting. So, I go through all of this suffereing just to make a chapter, only for all of my effort to just seem meaningless when I realize that nobody cares, I don’t care.
> 
> So, I basically am depressed a bit any time I write these chapters. Any time I sit down. “I could be working on my story.”
> 
> Any time I’m eating. “I could be working on my stories.”
> 
> When I am watching videos and listening to music. “This sounds nice, I could incorporate this into the poems in my story.”
> 
> So, I am a workaholic, don’t be like me. Take a break and enjoy life, then tell me about it so I can be jealous and want to stop writing as much. Well, that’s all I have to say. Let’s get right into the story.

     I open my eyes to find darkness. Nothing illuminating the tiny hut. Complete darkness, no stars out through the doorway, no windows, no lantern, nothing. Just my breath and sometimes some laughter from down on the beach. 

     Yet I don’t feel alone. I hear my breath, and when I move my feet to get rid of that crawling feeling I hear the shuffling of the sheets, and I can hear my heart beating to a different tune than it should, but other than that it’s complete silence. So why do I feel this way? 

     At first, I only hear it. Someone else breathing next to the bed, and when I reach my hand out to feel the person I only feel air, but the breathing never stops, only grows louder. Then I feel the warmth of a breath on my neck, and I throw my hands around, catching nothing but air, but the breathing never stops, the tickling of their breath never ceases to exist. Nobody’s here, it’s just another one of those hallucinations.

     Then I feel a pressure on my stomach, yet I know by now that there is no way that there is someone on me, there is no way someone can be on me as I am throwing my hands around and still feeling nothing. My arms grow tired so fast that I just blink and then they’re on the bed, burning like someone just dumped scalding hot water on them. I can feel someone pinning them down on the bed, and I shut my eyes tight, chanting in my head “There’s no one there, it’s just your imagination.”

     But it felt so real, my arms not being able to budge, the breath still tickling my neck. Not like the headache is helping any. I opened my eyes and saw a figure of someone on top of me, their head close to my neck. “It’s okay, Tommy. I’m here.” The figure nuzzled my neck, and my breath hitched, my heart beating frantically.

     “Aww, is Tommy scared?” The figure’s head lifted from my neck and leaned so close to my face that our lips were only a centimeter apart. I could see the face of the figure, and the scream building up died instantly, my eyes wide and unblinking, forgetting about the headache and my restless legs. A hand gently stroked through my hair, the smile that had annoyed me for so long now feeding the panic in my soul. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, I won’t leave you.”

     The hand in my hair drifted down to my cheek, and my heart pounded against my chest, irregular and faster than it should be. He leaned down to my ear, my breath fast and sharp. “Not like how Newt did.” The scream that had faded away now came back with a vengeance, and I let it out. I screamed until my throat went raw, and the pressure left, my arms able to move and thrash alongside my legs.

     Even though it burned to do so, I continued to thrash and shriek, feeling my already-low-energy supply depleting fast. Light flooded the hut and Minho appeared by my side, trying to get me to calm down, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t calm down, for he was still there, waiting for me to stop before pouncing once more. 

     “Thomas, what happened?” Minho left my view as my leg replaced where his face was a second ago. “Holy shit, Thomas, slim it!” As my tired limbs slowly cane to a stop, I turned my head to the rest of the hut and saw Frypan, Brenda, Teresa, Gally, Vince, and the Sand Twins standing there in the hut with wide eyes, more kids trying to peer into the hut from outside.

     I felt the headache coming back, and I groaned mentally as I remembered the last one. “Thomas?” My eyes shifted over to observe Minho, and he swallowed. “Did something frighten you?”

     A nod. Minho’s mouth formed a frown, and I didn’t like Minho frowning. “What did?” I swallowed, My mouth feeling dry and sore.

     “I saw Janson.” I could just imagine everyone frowing or frightened, but I didn’t look away from Minho for a second, fearing that if I did, Janson would be standing there with that grin on his face. “And he—it wasn’t really Janson, but it felt like he was really there.” I winced, trying to talk through the pain. 

     I looked away from Minho, ashamed, and did a double take. Janson had been standing right by Teresa, a gun in his hand aimed at Teresa’s head, and he winked before I blinked in surprise. “Look, it was nothing, just a hallucination.” My friends didn’t look convinced, but Brenda closed the door because this conversation was private, even chasing the children away when they didn’t listen, and the Sand Twins left of their own volition. 

     Aris, Sonya, Harriet, and Jorge also entered the hut, taking up the rest of the space in the hut. I felt so tiny and vulnerable, and I could see weapons. _They came here to kill me._ I shoved that thought from my mind, reminding myself that they were my friends. They wouldn’t hurt me.

     Minho looked at me, and I could see the stress eating away at him. “Was it another hallucination?” A nod.

     I could see the way everyone looks uncomfortable. Frypan, holding a tray of soybeans and -you guessed it- more baked fruit and some peas. “Here, for you.” He set it on top of my legs, and I thanked him, but I was too tired to even lift a finger.

     Brenda, noticing this, walked up to the side of the bed and sat down at the edge. “Do you need help?” I really wanted to say no, to be able to say that I don’t need help eating, but I could only dip my head down in a yes motion. She helped to feed me, and in front of everyone I felt like an embarrassment, that I should just go kill myself.

     But I hid those feelings, thinking that she just cared a lot about me, she’s not trying to embarrass me and isn’t embarrassing me. “Feeling better?” Sonya asked, her tone sounding hopeful. I shook my head, and wanted to take my answer back when her face fell.

     Then the bed—no, the ground was starting to shake. It shook momentarily before it stopped, leaving us confused in its wake. Then the ground shook again, and this time I could hear the faint sound of an explosion. We all heard it, judging by the glances we all were making. “WCKD,” Harriet breathed out, saying out loud what we were all thinking.

     “Hurry!” Vince started taking hold of everything, telling everyone to move before heading to where I am assuming the other immunes are living. “Come on, we have no time to lose!” I tried to get up, but a wave of dizzyness had me throwing up on the floor, ny vision blurring. Everything hurt, and I was being... moved?

     “...mas! Thomas!” A blink later and everything was sharp and the headache came back. It wasn’t that bad yet, but it probably will be soon. After a second or two I realized that the dark clouds I could see in the night sky weren’t the ones moving that fast, my bed was the one moving. 

     Then Teresa’s face appeared on the left side of my bed, giving me a worried look. “Thomas, how are you feeling right now?” I raised an eyebrow, questioning why she is asking this _now_ of all times. “Please, just answer the question.”

     “I feel like shit. Happy?” Teresa bit her lip in thought, before moving out of my sight. Darkness was creeping up in the corners of my eye, and I forced myself to stay awake.

     “Minho, try to lift him out of the bed.” _Teresa_.

     “What? Why would I do _that_?” Minho sounded a bit out of breath, probably from pushing the bed, and then the bed stopped moving forward. 

     “Because we wouldn’t be able to run away from WCKD while pushing a bed! Now, please just do it.” A sigh, then a moment of silence. Then I feel arms lifting me out of the bed, and I was being held bridal-style or whatever they called this hold.

     “Happy now?” I couldn’t see Minho’s face, but Teresa looked relieved. She nodded, and then I could hear Frypan shouting, “Some WCKD soldiers are coming up the hill!”

     Teresa shouted back. “From where?!” Frypan most likely pointed which direction, for Teresa gestured for Minho to follow. I could feel Minho running, and could hear something -most likely the grass Teresa was talking about while I was in bed- crunching underneath Minho’s feet.

     Gunshots were echoing from behind us, most likely from where the immunes were living. I couldn’t look back, for I was too tired to even lift my head. Thank god the headache decided not to get worse and was just hanging about, though those sore red cracks in my mouth weren’t helping at all. I couldn’t even respond that much anymore, because moving my lips would just make those cracks hurt more.

     I slightly shivered from the cold, wishing that I had a jacket or at least something to cover up my feet. “Aris, how are we doing?” Minho was barely out of breath, and I found myself feeling a bit envious at how he could run while carrying someone and still be able to talk while I couldn’t even walk without being short of breath. Actually, this was my first time outside ever since we escaped from WCKD.

_Why can’t the universe just let me enjoy being outside without the looming thought of WCKD chasing us?_ “Not so well. WCKD has taken at least half of the immunes, and has also taken Brenda and Harriet.” Aris could barely talk between breaths, but the message had carried through nonetheless. _WCKD is winning_. 

     Another pair of feet was crunching the grass from the left side, but I couldn’t see who it was. “WCKD is right outside Thomas’ hut right now. I suggest we hurry.” _Frypan_. Teresa was looking back at me right now, with some sort of gleam in her eyes that I couldn’t pinpoint. 

     “Minho, stop.” _Teresa_. Teresa had stopped in front of us and Minho slowed a bit, but didn’t stop until Teresa grabbed his arm and pulled, almost dropping me onto the floor.

     “What the fuck was that for, Teresa?” Though it was dark, I could tell that Teresa was looking at Minho with the same face she had made when she betrayed us to WCKD. I had a bad taste in my mouth, knowing where tuis could be headed.

     “Teresa?” My voice was hoarse and I had a hard time talking, the cracks feeling like fire and I could taste a hint of blood. She looked at me with what I think is worry, but I couldn’t tell. The soldiers’ yelling was getting louder.

     “Come on, Minho. We have to go.” Aris was in my view now, tugging at the arm Teresa had her grip in.

     “No.” Her tone was firm and her grip was as well. “You’re not leaving. Not with Thomas.” 

     “You’re with them, aren’t you?” Minho’s accusation was followed with angry and shocked silence, so thick that you could cut it with one of the knives we stole from WCKD. “I knew it.”

     “No!” She clapped a hand over her mouth and spoke quieter, trying not to catch the attention of the WCKD soldiers that were getting closer. “I’m not with them.” 

     “Then why are you saying these things?” A step closer and I could see Teresa more clearly in the dim light we had from the full moon tonight.

     “Minho, we have to go!” But Minho wasn’t budging, probably glaring at Teresa, yet Teresa wasn’t budging as well. My feet felt like ice, and I knew that a decision had to be made before I froze out here.

     “Because I’m looking out for Thomas.” Our eyes met, and she swallowed in fright before looking back up at Minho. “If you don’t agree to put Thomas on the ground and leave, I will scream.”

     Silence. The headache was growing worse, and I could hardly think due to the pain. “I will not give Thomas back to those people.” And then Minho was running, Teresa was screaming, and I had no clue where we were going and honestly didn’t care as long as I wasn’t going back to WCKD, to Janson. 

     The thunderous footsteps of the soldiers were growing louder, and I could hear Teresa ratting out on us. _Once a traitor, always a traitor_. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think for her betrayal felt like a splash of ice cold water.

     My headache was getting worse, my head throbbing with the pain, and the cold was biting at my feet, which was also tingling with the crawling sensations. The cold was giving me a bit more focus, but I was so tired, I just wanted to sleep. _I could just close my eyes for a second_...

     A gunshot rang out, and I found myself tumbling on the floor with Minho tumbling in another direction, rolling along the ground before coming to a stop. Minho was screaming in pain somewhere nearby, but I couldn’t tell from where. Blood was oozing out from a small cut on my cheek, and I was just laying there, trying to make sense of what just happened. The headache wasn’t helping.

     Two soldiers stopped for me, and the rest ran either to Minho or Aris and Frypan, searching for the other two. The two soldiers by me lifted me up, and one of them whistled. “Damn, this one is light as a feather.” _Oh yeah?_ That soldier was definitely not happy when one of my thrashing feet hit his junk.

     “Fuck!” Pleasure ran through my body, feeling delighted at how the soldier fell to the ground, holding his private part and cursing me out. The other soldier was a bit more careful and lifted me up like how Minho did. The energy had left me after that one violent kick to the nuts, so I was left to be lifelessly carried to where the immunes had been living, and where almost all of the gunshots were originating from.

     Everything from there was a blur. I couldn’t remember anything other than the soldiers, guns shooting, handcuffs, and...Janson. He was standing there, on one of the multiple Bergs that weren't there before, his face lighting up when he saw me. Butterflies were fluttering in my stomach, and my heart was beating so loudly I was sure everyone around me could hear it. 

     I don’t remember too much, but I do remember Janson taking me from the soldier’s arms, walking deeper into the rather large Berg. It was even larger than the last Berg I was in, with multiple short corridors branching off from the main one, and the pilot’s cockpit blocked off with a wall and a door. The trip to the room I was staying in was short, I think, and Janson had placed me gently onto the bed, very different from how I remembered him.

     Though I don’t even recall most of my life, and what I remember of Janson was at least over a year old, so it wasn’t the most _reliable_. But I think it is safe to say that Janson wasn’t going to be super nice and gentle after a year or so, escpecially if he’s still able to shoot down teens and children without even the slightest hint of remorse. Then why was he acting this way? 

     He was rumaging through a bag that was laying on a table, and that was when I took my time to process what was going on through my headache. I was on a bed, but not a hospital bed, that was big enough for only one person. The room was mostly barren, with only a small table on the right side of the bed. That was it, nothing else.

     “Look at you.” His voice was calm and his creepy and annoying as fuck smile was still on his face, but now the smile was just creepy. “You’re all skin and bones. Did your friends starve you?”

     I wanted to shout, to scream bloody murder, but I couldn’t even move my mouth without the horrible pain erupting, so I just glared at him with as much hate as I could muster at this point. “What, are you giving me the silent treatment?” Janson pulled out a syringe, and my heart started to trip over itself in its haste to pick up more speed. I’m pretty sure that it was bad for my heart to do that, but I honestly couldn’t care by now. 

     “Come on, Tommy.” A low growl emitted from my throat, and my hands slowly balled into fists. Arms spread out, Janson grinned at my reaction. “Ah, there’s the Tommy I know and love!” _Wait, what?_

     He pulled my right arm away from my side, rolling up my sleeve as he gently swabbed a small portion of my arm. “Okay, open your mouth for me, Tommy.” He frowned at my hiss when I tried to say something. “Tommy, you better stop or I _will_ be forced to take proper measures.” 

     That took the wind out of me. Janson’s face lit up when I stopped hissing. “Good boy!” I couldn’t exactly answer as he pushed the syringe through my skin, frowning when he saw how my skin crumbled around the hole. “My, what did they do to you?” 

     “Nothing.” Another hiss of pain escaped as I answered without thinking. Janson took the syringe out and gently placed a bandage on top of where the syringe had entered my skin. He frowned when he noted how my face was scrunched up in pain. 

     “Okay, open your mouth.” I shook my head, dizzy from the action. Janson forced my mouth open, and I yelped in pain when the red cracks felt like they had burst into flames. “Oh god,” Janson breathed out, examining the rest of my mouth before letting me close it.

     He then put restraints on me once more, getting up to leave. “Wait here, Tommy. I’ll be back.” Janson never did come back. At least, I think he didn’t. 

     Who knows by now if what I remember actually happened? What if I never actually escaped? I just couldn’t breathe at the thought of my friends never actually being there. The dark tendrils at the corner of my eyes now was more prominent, and I didn’t care at this point. It had already been thirty minutes judging from the clock.

     Janson wasn’t coming back. Nobody was coming back. All of my friends were trying to get to freedom, to fight back another day. But it just waan’t going to happen. As long as Janson was alive, those chains would never completely disappear.

     But if Janson dies, we are all free. That was my final thought before the darkness creeped over. The panic that usually came with it now relaxed me, for why wake up when Janson is going to be there?

     The hand dream replayed itself. except now when Teresa tripped me the hands dragged me through a maze of white hallways to a room with a bed and lots of medical machines. Janson was there, standing to the side and observing me with the same creepy and annoying smile. But the Sand Twins were the main attention, guiding the hands to put me in the chair and restrained me with the same restraints all the beds had nowadays, holding different tools. They pulled down my eyelids, checked my mouth, looked at my fingernails, felt my hands and feet, checked my temperature, and asked me questions I didn’t want to answer to.

     The female grew tired of my silence and pulled on my hair, my face scrunching up in pain. “Listen to me, Thomas. If you don’t answer, I’ll kill your friends myself.” Then I woke up to the sound of a beeping monitor.

     The beeps matched my beating heart, following the improvised tune beat for beat. Everything other than the monitor and my breathing was silent, still as a deer caught in headlights. I couldn’t hear anybody, and so I relaxed, breathing out a sigh as I was alone. 

     Then the door slid open, and in walked the people I hate most. “Hi, Tommy. Glad to see you’re awake. Shall we begin your examination?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If anyone was wondering, Janson calls Thomas Tommy because he heard Newt say it and was like, “I like that nickname. I’ll call Thomas Tommy, too.” And he likes to put Thomas in a lot of pain when it doesn’t threaten Thomas’ life.
> 
> Janson was gentle because—I shouldn’t say it now, I should pretend you are Thomas and knows what he knows. So, just assume.
> 
> Also, this chapter was shit, I know. But I am not even Thomas’ age yet. By the way, I learned in the films and the books that Thomas was about sixteen, and he was played by an actor who’s, like, in his late twenties. So...
> 
> I’ll see you in the next story/chapter. Buh bye!
> 
> (Ten points to those who get the reference.)
> 
> Poem:
> 
> My inner demons like to fight
> 
> And I can’t see a thing
> 
> But I know from experience
> 
> That no one likes begging
> 
> So I have to work it out
> 
> Have to fight on my own
> 
> And when someone helps me
> 
> I don’t feel all alone
> 
> But no one helps
> 
> Because no one knows
> 
> How much I suffer
> 
> As I fight inner foes
> 
> End of Poem
> 
> So, that was supposed to be freeform, but I guess poems write themselves. Well, hope you liked that one.


	7. Some More Creepy Janson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me except for this disclaimer. Everything else belongs to Lily Bird Flower.
> 
> Hey, listen! This chapter is absolute garbage and shit! So, if you don’t want your eyes to get burned, leave now! I’ve decided that there might be some weirdo Janson and freaked out Thomas—Okay, fine, a lot of creepy Janson and spooked Thomas just kinda there. I’m guilty!
> 
> Anyways, I suck at writing, my plots are messed up, and there are going to be creepy vibes in this and absolutely multiple chapters from here on out. So, this chapter is just Creepy Janson and Poor Thomas.
> 
> Also, very long chapter. Get ready for a lot of reading.
> 
> Well, time to get started!

     I’m sitting on the same bed Janson had put me on, with the Sand Twins on my left and right. The female on my right has a smile that is obviously fake and the male on the left doesn’t even try, having a sadistic grin on his face as he sat down on a chair. Janson had left before, talking about meeting my friends or something, but I couldn’t concentrate on what he was talking about.

     “Hey, Thomas!” The female gave a “friendly” smile, going for the “sunshine and rainbows” kind of personality, though from her sparkling v-neck black dress that went to her ankles I could tell that she was working for WCKD long enough to become trusted personnel. The male was similarly dressed, with an ironed 3 piece suit, but I shouldn’t focus on what they were wearing, I had to focus on how to get out of here. “How are you feeling?”

     I couldn’t respond in words, because those red cracks in my mouth were still very sore, so I manuevered my right hand to give her the middle finger. Her eye twitched, but she still kept up that sweet facade of hers, which made me want to say “Fuck you!”, but I didn’t. Because my mouth was sore, and I didn’t want to appear weak in front of these two.

     Her blond hair shone from the bright lights as she leaned over me, looking straight at my mouth. “Oh, is your mouth giving you trouble? Mr. Janson told me that your mouth was all messed up. Open your mouth, Thomas!” I rolled my eyes and gave her the middle finger again, but complied anyways since by the way the male was grinning I assumed that Janson allowed them to “take appropriate measures” should I fail to comply.

     “Oh, damn,” the girl muttered, touching the cracks with her plastic gloves on, a hiss escaping my throat whenever she touched the cracks or opened my mouth a bit further. “Look at this.” Her brother(?) eyed my mouth as well and whistled. “It got worse. Do you think it’s moderate or severe anemia?” 

     “I don’t know how severe, but most definitely a deficiency in hemoglobin, since his tongue is pale.” The girl agreed, prodding at my mouth a bit further before finally ending my torture by pulling her hand out and letting me close my mouth. _God, that was pure_ torture.

     Then the male pulled down my eyelid, the girl taking out a -was it a clipboard?- and feverishly writing something down with what I think is a pencil. The male would make a remark like “His lower eyelid is yellow and his face is pale,” or “His hands are like ice!” She wrote down whatever he said, her sweet and cheery facade disappearing.

     Then he started asking me questions, his sister(?) prepared to write down whatever I said. “How have you been feeling as of late? Did you have headaches or bouts of dizzyness lately?” I nodded. “Were they frequent?” Another nod. 

     Only the sounds of the monitor and scratches of pencil on paper reached my ears, other than the male and female asking me questions. There were no footsteps or voices outside of the room, doors weren’t opening or closing and not even the sounds of the engines distracted me from what was happening inside the room. And I know I was still on the Berg, for my clothes were still dirty and ripped, and I could see my hands were still grimy, and the room was still the same.

     “Are you feeling dizzy now?” I made a so-so gesture. I wasn’t about to go vomit or anything, but the room was spinning a bit. Then the female joined in, saying, “Has your skin been crumbling, more of your hair falling out than it should be?” I nodded and then shook my head, which the girl recorded.

     She asked me one more question. “Have you felt any better lately?” I took a moment to think, moving my legs to get rid of that stupid crawling sensation. Then I made the so-so gesture again, not quite sure whether or not there was any change. “Hmm, I see.”

     The girl dusted off her dress before walking out, her high heels that I didn’t really notice before clacking against the ground. “Come on, we’ve got all we need.” The male nodded before following her, straightening his tie and the wrinkles on his clothes as he left. _They left at last._  

     Then the silence was all that was left in the room with me. The lights felt too bright for such a lonely place, the room so blank, with the clock taking its sweet, sweet time before saying “Hey, a minute has passed!” The monitor was so annoying in how it was constantly changing pace, speeding up and slowing down, pausing every now and then before continuing.

     More time passed—I think, like, an hour passed before anyone finally opened the door. When it opened a wave of noises bounced off the walls, and I could hear the engine humming and the chatter of soldiers pasing by before the door shut again, cutting off any noise from outside. The person was Janson, walking in with one of WXKD’s syringes. 

     “Hey, Tommy.” I wanted to snap at him, but I could hardly move my legs, much less talk, so I just glared at him. “Your friends would like to see you.” _My friends?_ Janson chuckled at how my eyes widened in delight before I realized that there was obviously a catch to this. 

     “But I don’t feel like sharing.” He sat down in the chair that the male Sand Twin had been sitting in earlier, turning on the syringe and fiddling with it before looking up at me. “Especially when you’re like this.” I attempted to turn away from Janson’s hand, but I didn’t exactly have the energy left for that action, so I shut my eyes and clenched my law, shivering at the touch of the hand that would murder without a second thought. At the hand that had held a gun aimed at me, pulling the trigger and getting ready to fire.

     “So this is how it’s going to work.” He pulled his hand away from my cheek, and I let out the breath I was holding. “Every time you do as I say, you get one extra minute with your friends. However, every time you _don’t_ listen to me, I take away _five_ minutes of your time with them.”

_What?!_ I clenched my fists and breathed deeply, trying my best not to act upon my anger, for he could change his mind at any time. But his smug face wasn’t helping my situation at all.

     “Don’t worry. I’m sure you won’t have a problem with that, Tommy.” He began running a hand through my hair, and I froze, remembering the last hallucination I had. Janson said something under his breath that I couldn’t hear, but I didn’t ask, fearing the response Janson would give me. 

     The hand in my hair left, and I let out a silent sigh. “You’ve always been _such_ a good boy with me, haven’t you?” That smile that Janson gave me sent a chill down my spine. I licked my lips and was telling myself not to respond to anything he says.

     “Tommy...” Something in his eyes was just _unsettling_. I couldn’t quite define what it was, but it put me on edge, and I didn’t like it. “The world likes to play with you, doesn’t it?”

     Confused by his words, I tilt my head to one side. “I was trying to take you back to harvest your blood, then trying to kill you, and now I am trying to keep you alive. Isn’t that just _funny_ , Tommy?” Trying to hold myself back, I clench my jaw and ball my hand up into a fist, biting my lip as well.

     “ _Don’t_ call me Tommy.” Yelping in pain, I can taste a hint of blood in my mouth, but I couldn’t hold it back. Then Janson frowned, as if I didn’t get the joke.

     He grabbed my wrist and squeezed, hard. It felt like he was going to break my wrist, and I tried to scream, but no noise came out of my throat. “I can call you whatever I want, Tommy. Next time you say anything like that, I will make _sure_ that your friends won’t be able to see you again.”

     “But you said—!” The words came out as a hoarse whisper, and I had to bite my bottom lip to keep myself from yelling out in pain that erupted from the sore cracks.

     “Oh, you’ll still be able to meet them.” Janson’s annoying smile morphed into a sadistic smirk, his eyes holding a crazy look to them. I yanked at my wrists, hoping that Janson would let go of my wrist. “They just won’t be able to see you, or _anything_. You want to know why, Tommy?” 

     I shook my head, wanting nothing more than for Janson to stop. “I’ll rip their eyes out so they can’t look at you ever again. Maybe I’ll even make them mute so they can’t talk to you.”

     Tears were welling up in my eyes, and my voice cracked as I whispered, “Stop, please.” The grip on my wrist loosened, and Janson seemed to have just noticed how much he was scaring me.

     “I didn’t mean to say all of those things, Tommy.” Fingers gently rubbed where he was grabbing my wrist, soothing my fear a bit as he dabbed a swab of cotton on a spot of my arm before putting the capsule against my arm. The needle pierced my skin and injected something into my bloodstream, and I didn’t have any voice left to protest. “We’re almost there, Tommy. Almost there.”

     The darkness was there again. Hands were chasing me again, and there was no Teresa or Sand Twins in sight. I felt better than I ever did after I escaped WCKD, and, feeling so good, I danced around the hands in the maze, staying away from them with ease. Smiling, everything felt perfect as I saw the exit to the maze and ran for it, running out to the grass and the trees. Nothing could beat this feeling.

     I woke up with bandages slapped all over my arms, and an IV drop connected to my left wrist. There was no monitor tracking my heartbeat, and as I blinked off the fatigue leftover from however long that sleep was I realized that I felt _fine_. No headaches, no sore or dry mouth, my tongue felt _normal_ , no cold forever haunting my hands and feet, _nothing_. I felt normal.

     Of course, the room had changed from the Berg. The bed was big enough for at most two people, not _too_ wide but not so small that only one person could ever fit, and the floor had some sort of fluffy brown material. _A carpet_ , my head supplied, and that word felt so weird and yet normal on my tongue. _Carpet_. 

     A single lightbulb lit up the room, which had green walls and a bright blue ceiling with some white spots that resembled clouds. The bed sheets were white, and what my mind is calling a mattress was so bouncy that I just wanted to jump on it. Yet I chose not to, for I had just noticed something wrapped around my neck and waist. Not only that, but as I was sitting upright I could hear chains moving and felt my heart drop.

     A chain was attached to the floor, close to the bathroom and snaked its way up to the bed and curled around me, and as I dreaded ended by something wrapped around my waist and was locked in place. I tugged on the material, pulling on it harder and harder, but to no avail. All I got from it was the knowledge that the material was tough and flexible, not to mention itchy and uncomfortable.

     I sat on the bed just staring at the clock with nothing to do after 3 hours(?) or so. I already ran about a bit, testing the chain and trying to break it, all that crap. The door slid suddenly open, and I jumped—well, more like flinched violently. I groaned mentally as I saw _him_ standing in the doorway, smiling at me. “Hi, Tommy.” 

     The door slid shut behind him, and silence fell over the room. Janson didn’t say anything, merely sitting down on the bed beside me and staring at me with that same look in his eye that I just don’t know how to explain. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I tried to get up, but Janson just pulled me back down on the bed and didn’t let go. “Stay.”

     I almost snapped back at him, but then I thought about my friends and bit my lip, trying _so_ hard not to snap at Janson as he traced something on my arm. “Tommy, do you hate me?” I snorted before I could catch myself and those nasty butterflies started to flap about again, but Janson didn’t seem to care about that. “I see.”

     His hand yanked on my arm, and I yelped as I was pulled onto Janson’s lap. “What are you doing?!” I yanked my arm out of Janson’s grasp, but he just wrapped his arms around me and wouldn’t let go. “Let me go!” 

     “Say anything more, and I’ll personally cut off one of your friend’s arms and tell them that _you_ did that to them.” All of my muscles froze. _Cut off their arm?_ I couldn’t be a brat and have any of my friends lose an arm, so I let my muscles go limp after a minute of tense silence and didn’t do anything to break out of Janson’s hold after that.

     He snuggled up against my back and I tried my best not to arch away from him, yet I couldn’t help but arch at least a bit. Janson tightened his hold and forced my back to push up against him, and I bristled, feeling the urge to run. Preparing myself to speak, I swallowed down a ball of neeves and opened my mouth. “Janson?”

     Janson made a noise that sounded like yes, so I continued. “Why are you acting like this?” I waited for something, a punch, a slap, anything. But all he did was move me so my right side was pressed up against him, my legs laying on the bed. His hand brushed some bed hair out of my face, studying the look that I was giving him. 

     “You’re my precious little lab rat.” Take my fear, then quadruple it, and that would be how scared I am right now. “Why should I act like a brute when I’m trying to keep you alive? Besides, I can always hurt your friends if you ever try to run away.” Every part of me wished to get off, but when I tried Janson only tightened his hold.

     Breathing slowly, I clenched my fists once more and tried to keep my voice from wavering. “ _Please_ let me go.” A few moments passed, and I wondered if I said something wrong until Janson unwrapped his arms. I hopped off quickly, wanting nothing more to do with him, but fate would not be so kind to me as he pulled me back to him with the chain.

     Janson took the band of material connected to the chain off of me, but kept the collar on. Not only that, but he cuffed my hands behind my back -I didn’t even notice he had those with him!- and picked me up bridal style. “Lighten up, Tommy! You’re going to see your friends, since you’ve been such a good boy today!”

_I’m seeing my friends?_ “Really?” The doors slid open when Janson got close and slid shut as he walked out. They weren’t even locked! _Getting out might be a bit easier, if I can get rid of the chain._  

     “Of course! But you must be on your _best behavior_ , or you won’t see your friends ever again.” I quickly nodded. 

     Janson stopped in front of some door that required a keycard. “I’m going to set you down now. Don’t run off, I want you to see your friends because you’ve been good so far. I haven’t seen your friends in a while, and I want to see how well they’ve been doing.”

     “Good that.” Janson raised an eyebrow at that, and I ducked my head, heat rushing to my cheeks as I realized how stupid I sounded. I opened my mouth to apologize when I realized that I didn’t owe Janson any apology, and the thought of me apologizing to _Janson_ of all people made me want to vomit.

     I felt Janson lowering me onto the floor and I planted my feet on the ground so I didn’t look like an idiot trying to stand up from the floor with his hands cuffed behind his back. Janson pulled out his card and slid it through the slot, hiding it in one of the pockets in his jacket. “Do you want to be cuffed, or do you think you can be good without the cuffs?” 

     “I want them off.” After a second or two, I felt the pressure on my wrists fade away, and I rubbed my hands over my sore wrists as Janson led me through the door and into a seat. I watched Janson move to the other side of the room where there was a door with a slot for a card. Janson slid a different card through the slot and poked his head through the doorway.

     “Okay, who wants to see Thomas first?” _He calls me Tommy when we’re by ourselves, but calls me Thomas in front of my friends._ I raised a mental eyebrow and huffed. That was something I didn’t expect.

     Janson moved out of the way for someone, and once Janson stepped aside I could see it was Minho. Minho was cuffed and Janson placed him in his seat more roughly than he did for me. Now that I observed Janson a little more closely, I could see hate in Janson’s entire posture. I paid no attention to it, though, as I smiled at Minho, whom smiled back.

     “Minho, you doing alright?” Minho nodded, and I relaxed, the tension I didn’t even know was there leaving my muscles. “How has WCKD been treating you?” A shrug, and I let that one slide for now.

     “How have you been faring, Thomas?” Knowing that Minho would understand, I shrugged.

     “I _guess_ I’ve been doing all right. I feel much better than I did before. Guess Teresa wasn’t _that_ bad after all.” I took the nod and smile Minho gave me as a great sign.

     Loosening up, Minho sighed in relief, eyeing Janson a bit as he said, “Had anyone else to talk to other than Janson?” I shook my head, and Minho didn’t take it as a good sign at all. His face twisted into a frown, and he glared at Janson, who didn’t even humor Minho by looking back.

     “How are the others doing?” Minho made a fist and lifted his thumb, which -if I recall it correctly- was a thumbs up. It meant “good” or “great.” My face spread out into a broad grin, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Janson’s hand in a fist. 

     Turning my head, I asked Janson, “Hey, can I see everyone else?” Janson hesitated before moving to the door and I stood up, causing Janson to look at me with a confused expression. “Oh, I want to see everyone in that room, because this room is probably too small for everyone.”

     Janson muttered something under his breath, but he moved aside to let me enter the room. What I saw was rather...illuminating. It looked exactly like the room me, Minho, Frypan, Winst—No, don’t think about that. It never happened.

     Anyways, it looked exactly like _that_ room, except it was _just_ big enough for all of my friends to live here somewhat comfortably, with this weird red spot on the floor. But now that I could see everyone’s feet, I could see that they were all cuffed by the feet and was forced to shuffle in order to walk, making it a bit harder to plan an escape. Not to mention Janson hanging out whenever I talked to them and there being no clock in this room also helping to disintegrate any hopes of escape. Along with the fact that I had to somehow get rid of the thing that Janson attaches to my waist _and_ snatch both of those cards _and_ get rid of this shitty collar.

     Basically, getting out would be like trying to escape Janson with no legs in a long hallway with no obstacles to slow Janson down, which basically means it’s close to impossible. Even if Janson cut my legs off, I would still fight for just a slimmer of a chance to escape. _I should be smart about how we go about this. We only have one shot, and after that it’s either we escape,_ _or we get caught and_ never _escape_.

     I didn’t have to break out _all_ of my friends because some of my friends weren’t there. Vince wasn’t in the room, and neither was Aris. Or Teresa. Jorge was also missing.

     So that left Harriet, Minho, Brenda, Frypan, Sonya, Gally, and all of the immunes that didn’t get out of WCKD’s clutches. Probably not _that_ doable, but it could be done. With a lot of luck. “I’m alive, and not injured. In any way, shape, or form.” 

     Sonya and Harriet ran up to hug me, almost sweeping me off my feet. Frypan patted me on te back, and Gally gave me his usual greeting. “Hey, Greenie.” Brenda stood over to the right of Gally, waving at me but not moving forward. 

     “How’s that klunk been treating you?” Gally asked. Lightly laughing, I glanced over at Janson briefly to see if he realized we were talking klunk about him before mentally shrugging. _Who cares at this point?_

     “He’s jacked, but that’s nothing new. Just a little more jacked than usual.” Chills ran down my spine as I recalled what Janson did in the hallucination. Maybe the memories hidden from the memory wipe influenced that. A whole heck of a lot.

     “You jacked or jacked jacked?” A slight grimace flickered over my face before I allowed that small insult to slide on by.

     “Jacked jacked.” As of now Brenda and Sonya were covering their mouths, trying not to look at Janson, Gally was snickering at how confused Janson was right now, Harriet was sneaking glances over at Janson (it only served to puzzle Janson even further), and Minho...he just really liked insulting Janson. (The reason why they thought it was funny was because they were insulting Janson right in front of him, without Janson even scowling at them. Oh, that was Glader slang, so Klunk means poop or crap and jacked describes someone as crazy or mental.) 

     Minho snorted at that. “So, what do you mean ‘just a little more jacked than usual?’” By now everone has calmed down a bit, Janson was leaning against the doorway seeming uninterested, but we could all tell Janson was listening in.

     “I mean, the klunk was acting very gentle and they were just... _disturbing_. They look at me freakily, and I don’t enjoy that.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Janson silently fuming. You couldn’t really identify how he was feeling most of the time unless you looked him in the eye, but you didn’t even need to see his face in order to tell he was furious.

     “You have two minutes left, so whatever you want to say, say it now.” He kept looking at the little clock he has on his wrist, _a watch_.

     Gally stepped forward, and I could feel Janson’s eyes boring into me. I ignored it and stuck out my hand, Gally taking it. We shook hands and I grinned, Gally mimicking my expression. “Nice seeing you, Greenie. Hope to see you again soon.”

     “Good that.” Now everyone was smiling, hugging me and saying goodbye. Minho was the last one to say goodbye to me, and then I was reminded of what I wanted to ask before.

     “Minho?” He gave a slight hum. “Where’s Teresa?” He looked away for a bit before sighing and looking back.

     “She’s in the Deadheads.” _She’s dead_. The air stopped in my throat, and I was barely able to respond when Minho hugged me and said goodbye and sorry, hardly even feeling Janson pulling me out of the room, the door slamming behind me.

     I didn’t care as Janson held me in his arms, carrying me back to the room I was staying in, for all I could think about was Teresa. She only cared about my health, that was the _only_ reason she brought me back to WCKD, and she’s dead because she cared. _The red spot on the floor was her_ blood. I choked slightly on my own breath, realizing that she got to be with the others in her final moments before being killed right in front of them. _Murdered_.

_She died right in front of them, but_ you _weren’t there to see it._ I could imagine Janson aiming a pistol at Teresa, her eyes widening before he pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the room as the bullet tore through the flesh and her skull, killing her a long time before her corpse collapsed on the floor like a broken doll. _How could you not be there when she was_ murdered

     “Tommy!” My eyelids fluttered a bit, my vision blurred from the tears that were streaming down my cheeks. I could feel Janson wiping them away with his thumb, and the softness of the bed underneath me felt like a stab through my heart. Just from the sight of their beds I could tell that I had a much softer bed, and it felt like I was betraying them in some way by being on this bed.

     “Tommy, why were you crying?” Recollecting my thoughts, I tried to sit up only to be pushed back down by Janson. “Why were you crying?” _Teresa_.

     “Why’d you kill her?” Janson tilted his head in bewilderment. I glowered, tensing when Janson was fiddling with a large piece of metal.

     “What do you mean?”

     “You know what I’m talking about.” I _hated_ how my voice wavered and cracked, but my glower never faltered. “Teresa. Why’d you kill her?”

     “I think you know why, Tommy.” He didn’t appear to be paying much attention to me, merely attaching the chain to a piece of metal that looks similar to the material that was wrapped around my waist previously. Then he wrapped it around my waist, only letting go once he heard a faint click. “She betrayed me, and she would do it again once she saw you were better. I had to, to keep you here.”

     “I don’t want to be here.” Tears all dried up, I blinked and swallowed, my voice fluctuating. “I want to be anywhere that doesn’t have _you_ , or WCKD. I want to be outside for once in my lifetime.” His eyes had a dangerous gleam, but I kept going, not wanting to stop.

     “I want to be outside with all of my friends, not chained up like some _animal_. Why can’t you just leave me alone? Why can’t I ever be free of you?!” With not even a moment of hesitation Janson seized my throat, squeezing until it took all that I had just to breathe. My hands instinctually shot up, aiming to pry off Janson’s hands, but then I forced them to halt.

_I want to die._ It now looks meaningless just to stay here, to be chained up like some wild animal for humanity or whatever. _I’d rather_ die _than stay here._

_But what about everyone stuck here? What about my friends, who are also stuck here with me that needs me to help them escape? What about my friends that_ haven’t _been captured, trying to save me only to realize I_ died _? Do I_ really _want to die now, when my friends_ need _me, like how I needed Newt?_

     All of my problems were _nothing_ compared to what my friends are going through. If _I_ die, there’s no way Janson will let the immunes free. He might even kill my friends just to let out his anger, or worse, keep them alive and _torture_ them. _No, I can’t leave. Not now._

     I tried to gulp, but I could hardly even breathe, and I ended up choking on my spit. The pressure on my throat disappeared, and I coughed violently, struggling to breathe again. Arms curl around my waist, and I jump, stumbling out of Janson’s reach and retreating to a corner of the room. I curl up in the corner and shrink when Janson gets off the bed and steps closer to me. 

     Licking my dry lips, I say, trying to add confidence to my voice, “Go away. Leave me alone!” Although I tried to keep it steady, my voice wavers, and Janson gives me that annoying smirk that he always does and yanks on the chain again. My breath hitches as Janson pulled on the chain, reeling me in like I’m a fish and he’s the fisherman. My feet can’t get a grip on the smooth carpet, and soon enough I’m face to face with Janson again.

     “What did you say to me?” I took a shaky swallow, glaring as I waited for him to continue, knowing that from the look on his face. “Wrong question, my mistake. What did I say to _you_ about talking back to me?”

     A few seconds pass before I answer, knowing that no matter what I say, this isn’t going to end well. “I—!” All I could see was a fist closing in before I was on the ground, my face on fire. Blood dripped down from my nose, and soaked into the carpet as Janson kicked my side as fast and hard as he could, forcing the air out of my lungs. I coughed again, the familiar taste of copper in the back of my throat growing stronger after that kick.

     Janson grabbed locks of my hair and pulled, eliciting a yelp from me as he did so, letting go only to punch me in the gut and watch me fall to the ground again. Even though I knew I _probably_ shouldn’t fight back, since it would make it worse, I didn’t listen to that tiny voice saying “Hey, we shouldn’t do this!” and retaliated by punching Janson in the cheek. It felt nice to finally check that off the bucket list, but Janson didn’t hold the title of head of security for nothing. My feet were swept out from under me with Janson’s legs, and as I made an attempt to stand back up Janson was pulling the chain, kicking me in the gut again once I was close enough. 

     I could hear my ribs crack from that blow, and cried out when Janson kicked me again, curling up to try and block his attacks. Then something hit me in the back of the head, and my vision began to swim, blurring beyond control and tinting red. The energy that I had before was leaving me now, and I could hear someone yelling before the red covered my vision and turned black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that ended weirdly. This chapter was really long, so I’m not going to add a poem here. Just saying, I didn’t mean for this chapter to end that way, it just came out. Sorry for the weird plotline, but that’s the way it is. Go ahead and check out my other stories, such as The Cure or The Safe Haven, or Peter and The Itsy Bitsy Spider. I feel like they are more constructed and better than this story, which is not saying much, but they are better stories.
> 
> Sorry for not uploading sooner. I’m just working on another story. Seriously, I keep getting these weird story ideas. I should stop... Nah!
> 
> Hope you all had a fantastic winter break if you had one. I did, and it has just ended, and I am sad. Bye!


	8. Removal Of - I Can’t Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me, not even the notes, except for this disclaimer. Everything else belongs to Lily Bird Flower
> 
> My stories are shit. I know this for a fact. But I want to write this anyways. So I’m just going to be embarrassed by this once I hit the tender age of sixty or something. Or I might be dead before then, who knows?
> 
> Here we go...

     Blissful peace. A still lake, without a single ripple or disturbance, and I could feel a soft breeze brush through my hair, gentle as a feather’s touch. A smile played out on my lips, and for a moment I forgot everything that had happened to me, just relaxing and breathing in and out. Focusing on the sound of air leaving me and joining the rest, before I took in another breath.

     I felt the urge to open my eyes, yet the compulsion just puzzled me. For my eyes were wide open, taking in all there was to see here. The grass, when I stood up, could reach the middle of my calves easily, and the grass was a lush green, delicate to my touch. Calm sifted through the fields, riding on the gentle wind that hadn’t stopped ruffling my hair.

     But that feeling never went away, the feeling that I’m not actually _seeing_ anything. A notion that was absurd, for the lake is right there, and the grass vibrant and pleasant to feel. Crazy to even _think_ about. 

     As I focused on the sensation that was spreading through my body, the whole world around me seemed to fade away. I couldn’t even feel the dew on the grass, or see the lake anymore. Now that they were gone, however, I could see, with my eyes widened and my mouth gaping from shock, the walls from the Maze. Darkness surged over the wall, washing over everything in its path, and rapidly headed to where I was sitting. When I tried to get up, terror struck me like lightning when my feet wouldn’t move, my hands not listening to what I want.

     Soon enough the darkness reached me, holding me in its greedy claws. The wind was replaced with something more _solid_ , and voices from far away could be heard from somewhere around me. But I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t _do_ anything. The soil that had been underneath me had transformed into something much more soft and familiar, that feeling always accompanying the nightmares of the Sand twins. Cushions were underneath me, and the touch of WCKD restraints was wrapped around me wrists and my stomach, keeping me in its embrace.

     My panicked breaths partially drowned out the voices coming closer, and whatever had been ruffling had now left my hair when the voices became clear, and the squeaks of a chair or a stool echoed through the room. The doors slid open quieter than a mouse, letting light flood into the room where it could bypass the silhouettes standing in the doorway. Their shadows had been stretched, reaching the back wall behind me, only to disappear with a click.

     The first person to enter was the black female that was with Teresa, except there were a few stray strands of grey hair poking out of her tight bun, and some more wrinkles had been carved into her skin. Now that I wasn’t thoroughly panicked and confused, I remembered her. She was the lady that our group had forced to come along and open the door so we could rescue Teresa and get out. Relief washed over my emotional dam, glad that she didn’t get fired or killed because of what I had done to her. That thought was forever pushed to the back of my mind, for I couldn’t be feeling sympathy for my enemies.

     The second person was a pudgy man that sort of resembled Chuck, with his curly hair and somewhat obese body. But that was where the resemblance stopped. Where Chuck’s eyes was always alight with kindness, his eyes were cold and empty and reminded me of a pig, and he had a much rounded figure whereas Chuck was just a pudgy young twelve year old. This man was constantly grumbling, eyeing whoever was behind him and muttering something under his breath, face forever stuck in a frown.

     Next two I had already met. The Sand twins were entering, and the female was now dressed in a fancy blue dress with pearls dangling from around her neck, and it was so long that at times it would get stuck in her—*cough* cleavage *cough*—and then she would pull it out with a roll of her eyes. Her brother(?) was dressed in an ironed traditional suit once more, but this time he was wearing a bracelet of gold, glimmering whenever his sleeve rolled up slightly. Not to mention the leer that he gave me whenever our eyes met.

     The last person for me to notice was the hand in my hair, abruptly stopping when the voices had come closer and standing up from where they had been sitting. Janson. Wearing his regular black jacket and blue shirt with jeans, making me think that it’s the only outfit he has, always donning that smirk that has rubbed me the wrong way every time he has it plasered on his face. Janson hadn’t changed at all this past year and a half or so, unlike almost everyone else I’ve met so far. Even my friends had one slight change, like a length in hair or grew a bit taller, but Janson has remained the same.

     “Glad to see you are awake, Thomas.” My hands twitched when he said my name, itching to wrap themselves around his throat and squeeze. But the pudgy man stood in my view, the black lady helping him block out Janson as they observed me, studying my every move for what seemed like an eternity. But my instincts, which I trusted, told me only a few seconds passed before the pudgy man began to speak.

     “So this is the one you want us to work on?” He spanned any vision I had of the rest of the room, his stomach wobbling as he moved his arms wildly while he spoke. “He seems a bit too young for this, but we don’t get paid to sit on our butts all day.” One of his hands freed me from the restraints and wrapped around my wrists, tugging hard enough to rip my arm out of its socket and forcing me off the bed and to stumble forward, almost falling on my face. “Well, move!”

     The black lady clutched a clipboard to her chest, retreating into herself and not even speaking. Her eyes were lifeless, staring into nothingness until the pudgy man commanded her to follow, which she did. Not a single emotion popped out, not a single hair out of place, and her motions were all precise and calculated, and she didn’t even flinch when the pudgy man pushed her out of the way with enough force to make her fall onto the floor. She merely got back up and brushed off her lab coat as she followed the pudgy man like a dog followed their owner. This version of her clashed with what I knew of her, the lady that was brave and bright and _alive_.

     The moment the pudgy man moved to push me again Janson grasped his arm and twisted it, earning a sharp cry from the man. Janson’s shark grin played out on his lips. “Do that again, and I’ll be _sure_ to take you off of _both_ list.” Nothing about what Janson said made sense, but the pudgy man understood rather well what Janson meant by that with the look on his face and made sure to treat me gently after Janson had let go. The Sand twins merely watched from the background, name tags pinned onto their lab coats, but I didn’t care enough about their names right now to actually read what was on it. 

     However, I read the name tag on the black lady, and it read Amanda. Nothing else, just Amanda. I’ve heard other people having more than one name, but Amanda, a _doctor_ , didn’t have one. Once I actually _looked_ at her I could see that she was carrying three large bags, and the tools inside looked rather heavy. But she bore the weight with an empty look as the group moved through the hallways, as if she couldn’t feel any pain.

     “Amanda!” the pudgy man had called out when she stopped to look through a window in one of the hallways, the cries of a crank managing to breach the glass. Her eyes held a gleam of concern in them as she stared through the window, but then her face relaxed into the empty, lifeless look I associate with her and stepped back into line, bearing the slap that the pudgy man gave her. “Listen to me you moron! Follow me and _don’t_ get sidetracked!” the man half-yelled at her, drawing a brief amount of attention from doctors in nearby rooms before the doctors looked back at what they were doing, not really caring about how the man hit Amanda.

     Amanda nodded briskly. The overweight man muttered underneath his breath, lightly pushing me forward to remind me to move ahead, sneaking a careful glance at Janson when he did so. Janson followed without a word spoken and merely his signature grin, which wasn’t something I was quite accustomed to, and the Sand twins silently stalked the corridors behind us. The pudgy man held onto my arm and dragged me into a room with Amanda pivoting as if she had done this a thousand times and quietly watched the soldiers that had been standing in the room force me into one of the hospital bed things that WCKD has nowadays.

     The female Sand twin, whose name is Samantha judging by her name tag, walks about quietly yet haughtily, as if she was above everyone else in the room (except she always became quieter whenever Janson entered the room). The male Sand twin, Sandy, acted almost the same, except he always glared at Janson, as if angered by his very existence. Though that glare faded rather quickly whenever Janson focused on him, which wasn’t that often. Right away I could tell that their egos would kill them rather soon, though I hoped they would kill Janson before they died. 

     Cuffed to the bed with the same restraints as every other bed I’ve ever been on that I’ve been restrained to, I couldn’t exactly do anything, so I settled in and listened to what the pudgy man was saying. “Amanda, fetch me the sedative.” Worry lodged itself into my gut, and my breathing abruptly halted when Amanda pulled out the syringe from her bag filled with sedatives and handed it to the pudgy man. He turned away from Amanda without even thanking her, facing me with the syringe as Amanda dabbed my arm with the ever-familiar cotton ball with rubbing alcohol. “Now, I need someone ready in case he decides to kick.”

     All but two soldiers headed back to their previous positions before they were ordered to guard the room from potential threats, and the two soldiers stood by my legs, ready to hold them down should I freak out. But when one of the soldiers was heading out he bumped into the pudgy man, causing the fat slug to drop the syringe, the sedative spilling out all over the floor. “You imbecile!” The pudgy man’s face had red splotches all over, and he looked ready to murder someone as he turned to face the soldier that had done it. But the soldier had already blended in with the other soldiers leaving, and the fat klunk couldn’t figure out who bumped into him. “Now how the fuck am I supposed to proceed?” 

     “Proceed with what, exactly?” Samantha’s egotistical voice split the dead in the air, and the obese man rounded on her.

     “Aren’t you supposed to be a prodigy?!” Getting all up in her face, the fat man yelled at Samantha, who didn’t take what he said all that kindly. “Shouldn’t you know what I’m fucking trying to do?!”

     She grimaced, disgusted by how close the man was to her. “Of course, you’re giving this poor man amnesia, though why I can’t possibly guess. But I can’t trust _you_ to prod through Thomas’ brain, you can’t even take a _bath_ properly.” Samantha openly gagged at what I assume is the smell of the fat man, and I could see the man’s hand balling up into a fist. “Not to mention that you are _still_ somehow obese despite the advanced society we live in.”

     I could imagine the steam from cartoons in my childhood coming out of the man’s ears at how enraged he was. “Get out of this room.” The pudgy man’s voice was dangerously low, but Samantha paid no attention to him and was checking her nails, which had been painted blue to match her dress.

     “I’m sorry, who are _you_ to tell me what to do?” Samantha glowered at the man, whom was cowering at her intimidating glare. Samantha rose to her full height, a good foot and a half taller than the man, and if I was that man I would have been afraid for my life. “You might want to get to work,” Samantha snarled, “Or else...” And here she whispered in the man’s ear, causing his eyes to widen to the point where he looked like his eyes would pop right out. 

     Then she straightened up and headed to the door, Sandy right behind her as the door slid shut behind them. The man himself dusted off his shirt, his hands shaking with fear, and his face filled with dread. “Amanda,” he commanded, and Amanda took a step forward. His voice shook as he said, “Go get some more sedatives.”

     Amanda needed nothing more before she strode to the door, leaving only the man, me, the two soldiers, and Janson. “Fuck, I forgot to tell her how much sedative she should bring.” The man toddled out of the room, yelling “Amanda!” as he attempted to run. It resembled a toddler walking for the first time, however, and I let out a light laugh at how silly the man looked.

     Shoes scuffling against the floor reminded me that I wasn’t alone, and that Janson was the only one in the room with me since the soldiers just left the room, the door closing gently behind them. There was no room for Janson to sit down on the bed like how he usually does when he’s in the room I basically live in right now, so Janson just pulled a chair out from the corner, the legs squeaking as it slid across the floor before it finally stopped. Janson sat down in the chair and brushed some of my hair out of my face, giving a slight chuckle when I growled. “Why don’t you laugh more? Your laugh is so beautiful,” Janson whispered, pulling his hand away before my teeth could reach his fingers and bite down.

     “ _Tommy_ ,” Janson said, his voice threatengly low. His hand reached back into my hair, but this time he yanked my hair, forcing a yelp of pain out of my throat, and I twisted my head left and right to get out of his hold. He leaned forward, his face rather close to mine, and I froze, breathing heavily with my heart leaping out of my chest and into my throat. Once I had stopped, Janson let go of my hair, but I didn’t even breath out a sigh of relief, for Janson was still too close for comfort, his breaths tickling my skin. 

     “You’re so beautiful, you know?” Nothing could terrify me more than those words, for he said that in almost every hallucination I’ve ever had of him. Eyes glazed over, Janson leaned that tiny bit closer and our lips touched, and I could smell something rather familiar— _cologne_ , my brain is saying. Air caught in my throat, frozen like the rest of my body as my brain tried to process what Janson is doing. A hand clasped the back of my head and lifted it up, so the kiss deepened, and he could keep my head from moving away.

     That hand caught me out of the shock and I began yanking my hands, fighting against the restraints and my feet kicking in any direction it could. Tears streamed down my temples and onto the bed and my hair when I realized that Janson has taken almost everything from me. My freedom, my friends, any hope of ever seeing the outdoors without any fear of WCKD, lives of people I had ever cared about, any chance of escape, and my first kiss. Sobs escaped once Janson pulled away, and I breathed in huge gulps of air only to break down and sob once more, my tears sliding down my face faster than Janson could wipe away.

     Apparently concerned about me crying, Janson wrapped his arms around my torso as much as he could with how I was restrained and whispered what he might have thought to be soothing words in my ear, fingers drifting through locks of my hair, but the words reminded me of every hallucination of Janson that I had and only made me feel worse, crying until I could breathe again. Then I recalled Chuck, whom was like the brother I never had, dying to a bullet that was meant for me, lying on the cold floor with no one there to bury him properly, and I began to wail, mourning Chuck’s death. Soon I was mourning over Teresa, Winston, Mary, Ava, Alby, Newt, and the Gladers that had fallen to the Grievers. They all had died because I wasn’t fast enough to help them, wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t _good_ enough to keep them from dying. I cried and sobbed until I had no tears left to cry with, calming down and hiccuping every now and then before my breaths were evenly spaced out.

     The arms lowered me back onto the bed, and footsteps went into one ear and out the other. Everything felt so bleak and dark, and I didn’t want to live like this anymore. Soft, wet tissues wiped away the leftover tears, and Janson asked, “Are you done crying, Tommy?” I nodded, feeling so empty without my friends. It seemed like Janson wanted to talk more, but footsteps from outside kept Janson from sitting back down or talking anymore. 

     The rather obese man yelled from the hallway, “Why the fuck are you standing out here?! Get back inside!” A tick appeared on Janson’s face, his hands tightening into fists, and I watched with some sort of fearful fascination at how dangerous Janson’s face appeared with just the slightest frown on his face. As the door slid open the man walked inside, only to turn around when he realized that only Amanda had followed him into the room. “Why the fuck are you still out there?!”

     Blink and you would have missed the way Janson clamped his hands around the man’s throat with a clear intention of killing him. The sudden movement got me to gasp, but no one paid any attention to that. “That’s strike three, Mr. Miller.” Mr. Miller’s face had a shade of blue with the lack of oxygen, pulling at Janson’s hands and his feet treading air as Janson lifted him up with a morbid sense of glee, and my face paled when Mr. Miller stopped moving, his eyes glazing over in that way only corpses had. “Only _I_ tell my soldiers what to do,” he whispered, and then he dropped the corpse onto the floor, leaving it there like disgusting trash.

     After just a flick of Janson’s wrist the two soldiers that had been standing outside now came in and dragged the body away, like this was an everyday occurence. Amanda folded her hands behind her back, and I could swear that her eyes held satisfaction in their shine before they became dull and lifeless once more. “Dr. Crawford?” Amanda hesitated, as if unsure whether or not she should respond, before she straightened herself, rigid as a wooden board. “Can you do the procedure by yourself?” 

     Nod. “Then please remove only the memories that fall under these catagories.” Janson reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it to Amanda—or should I call her Dr. Crawford?—whom took it with a nod and smile that appeared rather forced. Unfolded, the paper looked like a regular piece of printer paper that you could find anywhere in this building, but I knew what was on there; a list of catagories so Amanda knew which memories to erase. Calmed, light breaths turned into ragged, terrified breathing as I started to understand why I was here, and Janson noticed.

     Amanda hurriedly placed the paper onto the nearest flat surface, which was the chair Janson had been sitting on earlier, and tried to swab my arm, but couldn’t since I had caught on and flailed, my elbows almost digging into Amanda’s gut multiple times before Janson stilled them, grunting as he tried to keep my arm as still as possible. Briefly swabbing the portion before throwing the swab in a random direction, Amanda almost stabbed the needle into my veins, releasing the sedative into my bloodstream despite my best efforts. Janson quickly backed off, lest he get kneed in the side by my legs, which have slowed as the sedative took effect. 

     “Please,” I spat out, my voice hoarse from the wails earlier. “Don’t take my memories away. I don’t want to forget!” 

     Amanda looked away, a pained expression cracking through her facade. An expression that almost bordered on sympathetic could be read from Janson’s face, and he ruffled my already messy hair into a bird’s nest, with an almost affectionate feel to it. “I don’t want to hurt you, Tommy, but you need this. So you don’t hurt inside anymore, Tommy.” Janson gave a brief kiss onto my forehead, and it felt like acid when his lips touched my skin.

     Heavy eyelids began to close, and even with my best efforts, I couldn’t stop them from closing, couldn’t stop my breaths from deepening. _I can’t stop anything, can’t do anything to stop others. I’m not good enough to keep these memories if I can’t even keep my memories from being erased._

     And some small part of me, some itty bitty part of my soul, whispered, “You never deserved any memories. You don’t even deserve to _live_ if you can’t do anything to change the world.”

     Even though I want to be something, that I _know_ that my friends wouldn’t be better off if I never existed, I quietly agreed with this small part. And I could almost see that part grin in victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is my next chapter. Hope you all feel good. And did you see the snow outside?! It only snowed a few times in November, and not December, but then all of a sudden there is all this snow! It’s absolutely amazing.
> 
> Anyways, see you all in the next chapter/story!
> 
> Poem:
> 
> Though my eyes are open
> 
> I can’t see a thing
> 
> My dream is a string
> 
> Made to be interwoven
> 
> Sunshine brightens the air
> 
> And I can breathe it in
> 
> My eyes say they win
> 
> But I cannot declare
> 
> That I am a normal
> 
> Human with a dream
> 
> I know that my seam
> 
> Is actually abnormal
> 
> Even though I can see
> 
> Sunshine, grass, and string
> 
> I can’t see a thing
> 
> Because of dibris
> 
> I have eyes no more
> 
> Where have they gone?
> 
> My eyes are laying on
> 
> The dibris-covered floor


	9. Weird Stuff Happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me except for this disclaimer. Everything else belongs to Lily Bird Flower (except for the Maze Runner series and the characters originally in the movies).
> 
> Hi everyone! One of my friends is posting this story on ArchiveOfOurOwn, and I want you to know so that if you like reading on that website, now this story is on that website! Yay! Though, I doubt that any of you would be excited about this, I [sort of] am!
> 
> Well, time to start writing again!

     Nothing was stable, or solid, or stuck in one place. Everything was constantly in motion, shifting into something else and ending up in places it shouldn’t have ever been. Even my own body contorted into various positions that I usually couldn’t do, and my nerves were set on fire with each new position before I got used to the notion of pain. Bound to a single spot, I was forced to take on the cold that came with the liquid I was in, shivering violently and wishing for warmth.

     The bonds keeping me in place dispersed, letting me float up to what I hope is the surface. I kept gaining speed, and all of the scenes that I could recognize sped right past me, moving in a blur, and I could see the surface of whatever I was floating in. I emerged and opened my eyes, blinking heavily from the bright light. Machines whirred in the background, and I could see blurred shapes through my vision, but I couldn’t make out anything solid.

     “He woke up! Quick, get more sedatives!” Shining objects caught my eye, and I observed the pointed objects slowly getting more and more focused. It was a few syringes, along with some sort of metal objects that I couldn’t quite identify, but I could see another object that resembled one of the knives that we stole from WCKD. Some of the objects had something red smeared onto them, drying and solidifying on the metal.

     Frightened by the new environment, my heart leapt into my throat when my arm was sharply yanked to one side, and sharp pain was the next focus. If I could even move my head.

     Pulled back into the liquid, forces of some kind forced me to stay just under the surface, keeping freedom just out of reach. The cold came back once more, and I screamed into nothingness. I fought against the forces, the bonds, the burdens, and reached for the surface, for warmth, for any kind of relief.

     Then I was pulled out of that realm, violently shoved into reality with a gasp. A blanket covered me from my shoulders to my toes, fuzzy and warm. Warmth from beneath me penetrated my thin clothes, and I snuggled underneath the blankets, trying to get more warmth from the source of heat, shivering as the cold of the room tried to sneak in from the edges of the blanket. Arms were wrapped around my waist, tightening just the tiniest bit when I snuggled, and whoever was underneath me let out a short laugh as I sighed, comfy and safe at last.

     The haze of sleep lulled me back to the realm of sleep, and I closed my eyes to the sound of someone humming a small tune, hot breath brushing over my neck. My limbs were being moved around to a more comfortable position, the arms securing me once I stopped moving, ensuring that I wouldn’t fall off. Soft breaths passed my lips as I dreamed of nothing that day.

     But something felt...off. It didn’t matter. It does, no, it doesn’t. It matters, it does. It doesn’t.

     Let me sleep. 

**[Uncertainty.]**

     When I woke up, it wasn’t because of alarms, or people screaming, not even the burning of the Scorch, or the screech of a Crank. None of those things were even _there_ when I woke up. No, it was from a sound that I could vaguely recall, even though I have never encountered it after I was in the box. It was the sound of melodies, of _birds_.

     Flaps and chirps entranced me as the small bodies fluttered about, diving and cheeping as though nothing bad had gone wrong. Some of the small creatures hopped about on the ground, pecking at the dirt and chewing— _worms_ , animals that should have died after the sun flares. Grass brushed up to my calves, and flashbacks to one of my recent dreams got me wondering. I twist my neck, looking to my left, just like I did in my dream at one point, and there it was, the still lake, sparkling underneath the light. Tilting my head to see above, I saw a yellow ball, the sun, trying to shine through the leaves and branches of a tree.

     A weird chirp brought my gaze down to the grass. There, nestled between two long blades of grass and camouflaging rather well, was a small critter—a cricket. It chirped once more before scurrying away, disappearing from view. A breeze swept across the field, and I couldn’t even believe what my eyes were saying. Yesterday I was crying about my memories being removed, and—wait, what memories could Janson have removed? 

     I sifted through my memories, but they were all so jacked up lately that I couldn’t even tell what memories could have been tampered with yesterday. Was it even _yesterday_ at all? It could have been way earlier, or later. I have no sense of time here. It’s so lonely here, without anyone to talk to.

     Sorrow washed over me. I missed my friends. Minho, Jorge, Brenda, Sonya, Harriet, Aris, Newt—Wait, where did _that_ name come from? No face came to mind when I thought of the name Newt, and that name was _wrong_ somehow, as if saying it would bring some kind of bad dream or memory.

     Shaking my head and continuing down the list, I stumbled across another name that made no sense. _Teresa._ The name sounded forbidden, like saying it was a crime that was punishable by death. But there was one name that brought some pang of sorrow, of pure heartbreak and tightened up my throat every time I said it. _Chuck._

     A flash of a pudgy boy on the ground, bleeding to death crossed my mind, and I doubled over when waves of despair pounded against my mental fortress, eyes burning and tears trying to ease the pain. A choked sob wormed out at last, but I didn’t even know why I felt this way. Wiping away the few tears that managed to streak down my cheeks, I sniffled and stood up, attempting to lose myself in the nature, like in the dream. It was much easier, with the birds cheeping happily and the soft wind blowing from behind me.

     But the sun didn’t seem to provide any warmth, and the breeze sent a chill shivering through my body. My arms instinctively wrapped themselves around me, trying to keep my warmth from leaving, and my teeth clacked against each other lightly as I shivered. Chanting the sorrow-filled name under my breath, the breeze let up a bit, the air stilling as if it was listening to what I had to say. “Chuck,” I muttered once more, letting the puzzling tears fall down into the grass. 

     I lowered myself onto the blades of grass, my pants soaking up the dew and giving me goosebumps. Rubbing my arms and shivering didn’t do any good, but I just wanted to be warm. The sun had moved a little bit, enough for me to know that the lake is north of where I was sitting, the soft breeze gently stealing away my heat.

     Grass crunched underneath someone’s foot from behind, and my senses sprang to life, causing me to jolt and tense, facing the intruder. I huffed when I saw Janson walking towards me with something in his hand. My muscles tensed when I saw what was in his hand. A sleek pistol was pointed to the ground, and Janson acted stressed, like something was happening.

     Janson relaxed and let a tired sigh slip out when he saw me, holstering the gun as he took a few more steps closer. Though every part of me screamed to run away, I knew it was useless and would only further agitate Janson, who wasn’t in the best of moods, so I stayed put and apprehensively watched Janson approach me. Thankfully, he stopped just within throwing distance and held out an apple I didn’t even notice before, gleaming under the most likely fake sun.

     “Tommy, something happened, and I’m going to be gone for a while, so I need you to stay here. You know, have some fresh air, run around a bit, hang out with nature. Here, something to eat while I’m gone.” My eye twitched when he said Tommy, but I didn’t even know _why_ I hated it when he said that. That fact irritated me almost as much as Janson calling me Tommy, though I couldn’t look back on it right now, since Janson threw the apple in my direction.

     The apple spun as it flew through the air, landing in my outstretched palm. When I looked up at Janson from the apple, he was already by the tree, vanishing behind the trunk. Curiousity pushed me forward, guiding me around the tree where Janson had gone to see...nothing. No secret door, no entrance, nothing to even say that Janson had even left in the first place. My hands couldn’t feel anything metallic, a crack, anything to indicate a secret entrance.

_Where did Janson go?_ Huffing in annoyance, I took a step away from the tree and felt the urge to look up. When I did, I could see a silvery-white lizard staring down at me, its eyes glowing red. I frowned, and then I slowly made my way over to the lake, keeping the lizard in the corner of my eye as I began to leave. The lizard turned its head to stare at me, even moving when it couldn’t see me anymore.

     A flash of black flew at my face, and it smacked me right in the nose. I stumbled backwards, yelping as I clutched my face, a bird cheeping in similar agony. The bird was flapping wildly, trying to orient itself, and I could see the red lights in the grass, glowing devilishly. Ignoring the bright red lights, I bent down to see the bird more clearly, tilting my head to one side, curious as to what allowed this creature to fly. Carefully, I scooped it off of the ground and held it in my hands, watching its small chest rise and fall. I gently stroked its head, calming it down and keeping my hands open in case it wanted to fly away.

     After a few minutes, the bird began to move about, flicking its head about as it observed its surroundings. Then, it flapped its wings and fluttered into the air, swooping about me before landing on my head, cheeping loudly all the while. I stayed as still as I could, not even daring to breathe in fear that the bird would get spooked and fly away, leaving me alone once more. My lungs burned as I held my breath, and I could feel everything burning as my body screamed at me to take a breath in.

     I couldn’t take it anymore and gasped like a fish out of water, taking in huge gulps of air until my lungs didn’t feel like they had been ser on fire. The bird had fallen off of my head when I lurched forward to breathe, but it had returned, singing its melody with the other birds and staying with me as it did so. I could feel my heart lifting from the despair I had felt earlier, and I forgot everything that had happened so far, every once in a while offering the bird some food and letting it happily munch away on the worms I gave it. By the time my stomach grumbled for food, the sun had begun to set, painting the sky a light yellow and orange. 

     The bird had flown about a bit, always coming back every now and then with a new bird friend, but when night began to fall it cheeped a few times at me before flying off to the gigantic tree, where Janson had disappeared behind. Once the bird left, I felt cold and empty, and I was left shivering on the ground until I could see the stars. There was no moon, but there were so many stars I would have thought there was a full moon just from how well I could see my surroundings. Wanting to see the exit of this place, I went around the trunk of the gigantic tree where Janson had disappeared to, only to find nothing. I sat back against the trunk, not realizing how much I needed contact from just about anything.

     Having gotten used to the feeling of hunger, I easily ignored my complaining stomach, resting my head against the bark of the tree. It was uncomfortable, but good enough. I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep, listening to the sounds of the water hitting the dirt, and the birds moving around in their nests. 

     I had completely dozed off before I could feel someone moving me around. My eyelids fluttered open to reveal a soldier grinning down at me, freckles dotting their entire fade, before they pulled me away from the room. The blaring lights blinded me, and I was forced to completely rely on the stranger, unable to see. Shouts and screams originated from almost everywhere, and the sirens soon left the chorus of noises, the only good thing so far.

     Sight had sort of returned by now, and all I could see were white walls, white floors, white ceilings, and sometimes people in white labcoats or black soldier uniforms scurrying about. None of them gave us a second glance, worrying about their own skin rather than some soldier running with the cure in their hands. But as we turned a corner, I couldn’t tear my eyes off of Amanda, our eyes almost glued to each other. She was frozen, stunned by my presence, yet as I gained distance from her she began to jog, dropping the tray of medical tools onto the floor.

     Familiar whines emanated from the soldier in front of me, and, without hesitation, I pushed the gun before the soldier could pull the trigger, firing the ammunition away from Amanda. She looked relieved, starting to sprint, but then she stopped, her eyes wide and panicked. Amanda straightened out and walked away, her eyes pleading with me to save her, and I wanted to. I could see that she knew I wanted to help her, but the soldier’s grip was like Janson’s, strong and unrelenting.

     Nothing I did would stop the soldier from practically dragging me through the hallways, shooting at anything that moved. Amanda’s gaze, begging me to help her, haunted me. I barely recognized that I was breathing in real fresh air, being pushed onto a most likely stolen Berg, and hearing the engines start up. The soldier finally released my wrist from their vice grip, and I absent-mindedly rubbed where it hurt.

     My feet began to wander the quite small Berg, with only a few rooms. One of the doors were wide open, and when I poked my head in no one was there. One bed, one mirror, and a dark brown desk with a rickety chair. That was it. 

     My mind flashed back to where I had been stuck on the Berg, Janson carrying me to a bare room with only a bed and a table, and chills crawled down my spine. Without thinking, I sat down in the rickety chair and stared off into nowhere, feeling _off_ somehow. I couldn’t pinpoint how I felt wrong, so I just brushed the feeling off, letting it slide underneath the table for another day. My head rested on top of the table, and I allowed myself to cry tears of joy.

     Finally, I was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, that’s it. A very short chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. See you in the next chapter/story!
> 
> Song:
> 
> Too afraid, to go inside
> 
> For the pain of one more loveless night
> 
> But the loneliness will stay with me
> 
> And hold me ‘til I fall asleep
> 
> I’m a ghost of a girl that I want to be most
> 
> I’m the shell of a girl that I used to know well
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything from the song above. (The Lonely) None of the lyrics are mine, so don’t say I didn’t tell ya.
> 
> Poem:
> 
> I have a disability
> 
> That I can never, ever see
> 
> For my eyes are gone
> 
> And I’ll never be
> 
> A beautiful, perfect swan
> 
> Note: This DOES belong to me.


	10. A New “Last City”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me except for this disclaimer. Everything else belongs to Lily Bird Flower (except for the original characters and anything in the Maze Runner movies, like the Last Coty and the Flare, and the Cure).
> 
> So, the last chapter was kind of a let down, and I’m sorry. This is a make-up chapter. Hope you enjoy! (Don’t worry, I’m not close to being done with this story yet. Just working up to the part where I might write some...You know.)
> 
> Anyways, let’s dive in!

     {*knock* *knock* *knock*}

     I groaned, rolling over in my sleep and snuggling in the warmth of the blankets that I had, feeling better than I had in however long I was in WCKD. “Go away,” I muttered to myself, hoping that somehow the person behind the door would understand and leave.

     {*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*}

     Wanting some more sleep but not desiring to look stupid to the person behind the door, I sleepily tumbled over the side of the bed and untangled myself from the blankets. A long yawn made itself known, and I opened the door for whomever decided to knock at this time, sleepily rubbing one of my eyes. Next thing I know, hands are shaking my shoulders, and Minho is yelling, “Come on, sleepy head. We got to go.”

_What? Go where?_ Puzzled, I opened my mouth to ask, but Minho shook his head and half-dragged, half-pulled me out of the Berg I had been in. “I hope Janson didn’t hurt your social skills,” Minho half-joked, but I didn’t feel like humoring him.

     “Where are we going?” Minho didn’t tell me anything, and I frowned before pulling my arm out of his grip. “Just tell me where you’re taking me! Stop keeping secrets from me, Janson!” I finished my outburst heaving, having seen Janson for just a split second in Minho before it vanished, leaving only guilt behind.

     Minho sputtered, trying to find the right words to say, but I pushed him aside and began to run in the direction that Minho had been pulling me in, which had a big blob of black and grey. Tears were pooling in my eyes for the umpteenth time, and I grew sick of them, furiously wiping them away before they had the chance to be known. This time, I tried to harden myself, tried to put on a new suit of armor, and hopefully I wouldn’t cry as much.

     Feet slapping the ground from behind me were growing louder, and I ignored anything Minho was saying. Just like how I was ignoring my empty stomach growling and hissing for food, feeling like a black hole eating away at me. After a minute of running away, my muscles felt much better despite the fact that I haven’t been running recently, and I could see where Minho had been trying to drag me more clearly now.

     It was a city with stone walls, stone buildings, and running electricity. Not only was there a city, but there were a lot of people with guns guarding the city. At least, that’s what they look like they’re doing. They were mostly males, yet I could easily see that females were also helping to guard the city. Some of the females were passing out loafs of bread to the soldiers, but most of them had guns and were definitely soldiers.

     “Where _are_ we?” I ask Minho, who finally caught up to me. We ran side by side, panting slightly as the city grew ever so slowly. We weren’t that far away, just a few minutes away from running. I don’t want to be on bad terms with Minho, so I’m giving him a choice whether or not to make it up with me.

     Probably thinking about my outburst from earlier, Minho hesitated before responding. “It’s...I really don’t know how to explain this, but this city is like the Last City, with a better version of WCKD trying to find a Cure without having to resort to violence.”

     “The _better_ version of WCKD?” I snorted. Janson seemed to be on our side at first, but after a bit of investigating he turned out to be the creepiest shuck-face I’ve ever met. Even higher up in the creepy and evil bar than Markus, that old creepy guy who drugged me and Brenda. Any version of WCKD is somehow, in some way, wicked.

     “I know it’s hard to think of any version of WCKD to be good,” here I scoffed, thinking that it was quite an understatement of how I felt, “but I’ve talked with them, and I feel like we can trust them. They want to kill Janson as badly as you do.”

     “Well, a lot of people want to kill Janson and anyone involved with WCKD. It’s not like they’re special for wanting to murder Janson.” Minho seemed a bit hurt that I wouldn’t give these people a chance, but he doesn’t know what I went through. “And I think that I want to kill Janson the most out of anyone, period.”

     “Janson did some horrible things to you, but he also did horrible things to us as well. He’s killed off so many people, did so many horrible things to people. How can you say that you hate him more than anyone else?” _Breathe. Minho doesn’t know, and it would get worse to tell him._

     Memories of Janson itched underneath the surface, but I didn’t want to remember him, so I pushed them down, hoping the memories would stay away. “Do you know anything about what Janson did to me? Did you even _care_ enough to think about what he did to me without you there to even _consider_ that maybe I had more reasons than anyone else out there to hate him?” My voice was dangerously low, dipped in fury and handed coldly to Minho. Expressing how infuriated I was with Janson was probably not the best way to go, but I couldn’t help it.

     Minho was just _staring_ at me, not saying another word in fear that I could burst out again in anger, and I turned my head away from Minho, heaving a loud sigh, trying to change the topic. “So, how’s the city like?” Minho looked away sheepishly, and I could feel my eye twitching. “You had to have at least _seen_ the inside of the city if you talked to them, right?”

     His hand scratched the back of his neck, and Minho let out a very soft, short sigh. “Not exactly. They wouldn’t let us in unless we brought you with us, to prove that we weren’t actually with WCKD, and to gain protection. That’s why I need you to hurry, so we can get the protection we need before WCKD comes knocking at our door.” _Of course, everything always, in some way, revolves around me._

     “So, you trust them even though you have to have _me_ to get protection like everyone else?” Minho opened his mouth to respond, but never got a word in as we had reached the city, and the soldiers were now aiming their guns at us. I raised my hands after seeing Minho do the same thing, slowly approaching them with Minho a bit in front. 

     The soldiers relaxed as they saw Minho, but they didn’t put their guns away. “It’s you,” the one closest to us observed, so profound in their observational skills. “So, this is Thomas?” 

     Right away another red flag had been raised, and Minho looked at me with some apprehension in his eyes. At least Minho has _some_ sense of danger. “Yes, he’s Thomas.” The soldier let off a warning shot, the bullet zipping past Minho’s ears.

     “Talk again, and I’ll give you a bullet for dessert.” Rage tinted my vision red, and I walked right in between Minho and the soldier, who had red hair and some stubble on his chin. Other soldiers tensed, but none of them had shot me yet, so I’m at least alive.

     “Don’t talk to Minho like that. All we want is protection from WCKD, and if you _truly_ are against WCKD, you’d at least hear us out before shooting us.” Silence fell upon us, and every breath felt like it could be heard from a mile away. Despite everyone’s eyes being on me, and any one of these soldiers could kill me right away, I stood my ground and locked eyes with the soldier in front of me.

     The soldier gave a small smile to me and lowered his gun, prompting the other soldiers to do the same. One of the soldiers in the back, a raven-haired girl, spat on the ground and glowered in our direction. My attention, however, returned to the soldier right in front of me, who was grinning and spreading his arms wide. “Welcome, Thomas. We’ve heard of how stubborn and brave you are, but mever could we have imagined you’d be like this!” 

     Her lips forming a frown on her face, the raven-haired girl leaned to another girl, one with strawberry-blonde hair and darker skin, and whispered something in her ear. Girl Two made a face and whispered back, getting Smiley over there to glare at her and storm away. “So, Thomas.” The place and everyone here gave me the chills and sent up all kinds of red flags, yet I brushed it off for later and paid more attention to the red haired soldier. “Why are you being hunted down by WCKD?”

     I glanced over at Minho, who shrugged at me and nodded. Seeing as how Minho gave me permission, I turned back to the soldier and said, “I think Minho has already told you. I’m the Cure.” 

     Whispers arose from the crowd of soldiers, and I could see some of them rubbing an arm or a leg, perhaps infected or worried that they _could_ be infected. Everyone was giving each other looks of awe and suspicion, and the soldier was no different. His face was a mix of awe, desperation, and suspicion. “How can we know for sure that you are truly the Cure?”

     Impatient, I tapped my foot against the ground and internally groaned. “Don’t you have your own scientists that are trying to find the Cure? Just have one of them take my blood, do whatever they do to the blood, and then give it to one of the infected. If it doesn’t work, then you can kick me out right away, along with my friends.”

     Nods and whispers was all I got as a response, and some of the soldiers broke off from the main group to pull the red head away and talk. Discussing our fates, the soldiers were talking and nodding, giving me a slimmer of hope that I wouldn’t have to keep running away from WCKD. After what seemed like an hour but was somewhere close to six minutes, they at last finished discussing, and the red head returned to us with something resembling a smile on his face. “We have decided that you can come in, but under certain conditions. If you don’t like them, say so and leave.”

     Once me and Minho agreed to this, the red head continued. “First, we get to test your blood.” I nodded. Easy enough.

     “Second, you have to listen to what we say at all times, or else we can kick you out.” Okay, a little bit of a red flag, but notiing too serious. I can deal with that.

     “And that’s it. What do you say?” Already I didn’t like these people, but Minho said we could trust them, and he actually spoke with them longer than I have. I won’t trust them, but I shouldn’t just treat them horribly without even knowing them. 

     Hesitating, Minho shook hands with the red haired soldier and nodded, looking over at me expectantly. I couldn’t not shake hands, because then we would have to run away from WCKD on our own. So I shook hands with the soldier, and everyone else there whispered and smiled, greeting us at times as we passed by. The red haired man told us to stay here and called out a cab, his sleeves coming down just enough for a thin black bein to peek out from underneath. Taking in a sharp breath, I tried to tell myself that it was just my imagination. Still, it was hard not to think about it whenever the man looks at me, a sliver of hope shining in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before.

     Light shone down on us, and the red haired man opened the door for us, smiling all the while. Faker seemed like a good name for him because all of his smiles looked fake to me. Faker sat in front by the driver, and I sat in the back with Minho on my left, right behind Faker. Faker gave me one last look over his shoulder before he looked ahead, making small talk with the driver as we drove to who knows where.

     Since Faker was distracted, I looked at Minho, feeling happier now that we were safe from WCKD, from Janson. Minho did the same, and we began making small talk, making sure to keep our voices loud enough for Faker to hear, but low enough that we don’t disturb their conversation. “So, what did that jacked up shuck-face do to you?” I winced. Of course Minho would ask that after my outburst, why would I ever think otherwise.

     “I don’t want to talk about it.” _I don’t want to talk about it here, in front of them._ Hope could only go so far, and right now I knew it was hopeless to think that Minho might forget it. “All I know is that it’s gross and...” Shivers racked my body for a second, and I could still recall how Janson’s lips felt. 

     “How had you been doing, after that one time that we talked?” I could tell that I said it wrong by how Minho frowned.

     “What are you talking about? We talked millions of times. You even talked with Teresa a bunch, but after Teresa...You know what happened to her.” _Teresa._ That name popped up again, and it seemed like I was supposed to know her very well, so why can’t I remember a single thing about her?

     “Who’s Teresa?” Nothing needed to be said after I saw Minho’s face. He was so shocked, he couldn’t even speak for almost a minute. Faker laughed at what the driver had said, and it sounded so fake I cringed. 

     At last, Minho began to talk. “What do you mean _you don’t know who Teresa is_?” _So I_ am _supposed to know who she is._ I shook my head. “Teresa! She’s the one that betrayed us to WCKD, twice!” 

_“Thomas. Can you hear me?”_ It was over, the female voice was cut off, and I didn’t know what she was going to say afterwards.

     “Are you just playing with me, or are you actually jacked?” 

     Not exactly thrilled at Minho calling me a liar or mentally ill, I frowned and said, “I’m not jacked, and I don’t know who this Teresa is. Whatever she did, it probably hurt me enough for Janson to get rid of.” Judging my words by the look on Minho’s face, it probably was not the best idea to say that.

     “What?” Minho’s hand balled into a fist, and some of his veins popped out a bit. “What did you just say?” His voice was murderous, and he was pretty pissed off.

     “I...” Steeling myself, I knew that not saying anything would just get Minho more riled up and quickly said it. “Janson took away some of my memories in an effort to make me hurt less.”

     Not wishing to see Minho burst, I shut my eyes and turned my head away. Even though I could tell Minho had a lot of rage boiling under his skin, he stayed quiet. Faker said some snide comment about someone and the driver thought it was funny, laughing heartily. Since it seemed safe enough, I cracked open one eye and saw Minho sitting there, his eyes holding a dangerous gleam to them. He opened his mouth to speak—

     —and then we had stopped in front of a building, Faker ending his conversation with the driver and left the car, telling us to follow. After we exited the vehicle, Faker bid the driver goodbye, and the driver did the same, driving off to pick up another person. “Alright, follow me. And don’t touch anything unless we tell you to,” Faker said, giving us another fake smile as he did so.

     As we walked into the building, I could tell that Faker was watching me every so often, glancing back whenever I wasn’t looking. Or so he thought. I learned to look oblivious but be vigilant in WCKD, when I had to in order to get the personnel to relax and start spilling the beans. So I saw every sneaky look he gave me, and all of them gave me the chills. I didn’t like Faker, and I couldn’t trust him.

     Minho saw some every so often, and I know this because he would tighten his hold on my arm whenever Faker looked back at me, as if to remind himself that I’m right beside him. Taking every step with him. Every now and then a scientist would walk past us, and I would get horrific flashbacks to when Janson would carry me through the hallways of WCKD. I reminded myself that no, Janson is not here with me. I wasn’t in WCKD anymore.

     An elbow nudged me, and I looked over at Minho, who was trying to catch my attention. “I don’t like the way he keeps looking at you,” Minho mouthed, glaring at Faker behind his back.

     I shrugged, and mouthed, “But what choice do we have? If we want to stay here, we need to follow him. Doesn’t mean we have to trust him, though,” I added, hoping it would placate Minho. 

     Faker stopped right in front of us, doing it so suddenly that I almost bumped right into him. “Alright, this is where Asian kid,” he pointed to Minho, “has to leave.” He gripped my arm, as if to drag me, and Mr. Miller popped into mind, yanking me off my bed and hitting Amanda. My breathing grew heavier, until it felt like there was a rock or a weight on my chest. 

     My arm was released, and once I blinked I realized that Minho was there, squeezing Faker’s wrist and causing Faker to cry out in pain. “I’m not going anywhere.” If the situation wasn’t so tense, I would have facepalmed. We’ve barely been here for an hour, and Minho was already breaking rule number one. “Thomas will have a heart attack if I let him go with those shuck-faces by himself.”

     “I told you that you had to listen to what we say to you,” Faker growled, trying not to squeal in pain like a little girl. “And if yoy don’t, we have the right to kick you out.”

_Why am I always the one breaking these two up?_ Prying Minho’s hand off of Faker’s arm, I pushed the two away from each other, glaring at each one of them equally. “What is _wrong_ with you two? We’ve been here for less than an hour, and already you’ve been in three fights.” Faker looked ready to defend himself, but I silenced him with a glower and a hiss.

     “Not now.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, wincing when I pulled on a tangle. “Minho, stop acting like a child who wasn’t given ice cream when he was promised one. And you,” I pointed at Faker, spooking him, “stop acting like you _own_ this place because I sure as hell know that you _don’t_. I bet you _she_ had more power in this place than you.” I jabbed a thumb at someone behind me, and Faker paled considerably. 

     “M-Mrs. Beldom! U-Umm...” Faker’s knees were shaking, and he seemed ready to vomit. I raised a eyebrow at his somewhat bipolar behavior, strutting about the hallways before cowering at someone else. Behind me, I could hear high heels hitting the floor, and I swiveled my head to look over my shoulder, almost choking on my very breath.

     There, walking towards us, was a younger version of Ava Paige, her hair reaching the middle of her back, and her face was free of wrinkles. Her eyes were brighter and more energetic, and she seemed to command more efficiently, always saying something to someone in a polite tone. Everyone around her looked willing to do anything for her, always scurrying about to do as she says. Almost instantly, a sense of distaste formed, swirling about in my gut like something that was difficult to digest.

     My body turned about so my neck wouldn’t hurt anymore, having been twisted for a linger period of time than it should. Mrs. Beldom walked towards us, her hips being forced to sway from her high heels, and I could see a big difference between her and Ava. Whereas Ava was always wearing white or gray, she was wearing black and had so much makeup on my nickname for her was The Clown. Seriously, she was always smiling with her lipstick that looked like she painted it on her face, and her cheeks were so pale they were almost white. Another difference was that she had every bit of everyone’s attention and adoration here, even making those who are cocky fear her, whereas with Ava she got shot by her “comrade” and—

_Don’t think about it._ Taking in a shaky breath, I tried to push the memory back to the back of my mind. Too soon for my liking, Mrs. Beldom had reached us and stopped when she was about to pass by. “Thomas! It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”

     Mrs. Beldom grinned, showing off her flawless white teeth, which contrasted her bright red lipstick. Her black dress was tight-fitted, showing off her curves. If she didn’t remind me so much of Ava, I might have considered her pretty. “Ava often talked about how stubborn you were, and I can tell right away that you’re not one to back down from a challenge.” She gave me the creeps, and I hated her right off the bat.

     Her fingers, nails painted red, wrapped around my wrist, her fingers just as white as the rest of her. “Come on, we have no time to lose! We need to examine you now.” She pulled me along, stronger than one would think. Protests from Minho fell on deaf ears, and when Minho tried to follow she waved her hands in his general direction.

     “No distractions!” That’s all she said, and when I looked back Minho was being blocked off by the nurses, who were insisting that he stay behind. She turned around a corner, and I lost any sight of Minho. He didn’t follow. 

     She opened a door, this one with a handle instead of the normal sliding doors WCKD had, and gestured for me to enter first. Understanding that it probably wouldn’t be polite to refuse, I entered first, and Mrs. Beldom closed the door behind her. “Now, give me your arm,” she muttered absent-mindedly, rummaging through one of the many drawers in the room. I obliged, pulling up my sleeve to allow her better access.

     When Mrs. Beldom turned around, she let out a small gasp when she saw what I did. “I didn’t expect you to actually _listen_! Ava was very condescending about you, saying you were thick-headed, but she was wrong about that!” Mrs. Beldom threw praise after praise to me, as if I was a child seeking attention from a teacher or a parent.

     She stuck the syringe into one of my veins, taking some of my blood before gently placing a bandaid over the small wound. “Seriously, you’re much more polite than any of our men here. And definitely more cuter!” Heat rushed to my cheeks after she said that, and Mrs. Beldom winked at me before moving to the other side of the room.

     Opening the door, Mrs. Beldom called a doctor into the room, handing the blood over to them and demanding that they hurry, with a much nicer tone than I would expect. “Oh, I’m sorry! I never introduced myself! I’m Diana Beldom, though you should know me from Ava.” She stuck out a hand for me to shake, and I took it, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.

     “I’m sorry, but Ava and I never really talked about anything other than the Cure.” Mrs. Beldom’s face darkened, and she actually looked frightening, seeming ghostly and out for revenge. But then she smiled, and her face brightened up once more, freaking me out even more. _Definitely bipolar._

     “Oh, of course she did! She’s always on the lookout, always such a workaholic! Of course she would never mention me, I’m the child that’s always cheery and bright, while she’s the moody child of the family.” Her bottom lip stuck out, and Mrs. Beldom seemed...childish, in a way. 

     Then what she said finally hit me, and I asked, “Wait, you’re related? No wonder you look like a younger version of Ava, and definitely not as old-looking.” After what I said settled in, I thought that _maybe_ it wasn’t one of the best things to say. Insulting her by calling her a “younger version of Ava” was most likely one of the worst things to say, judging from her attitude towards Ava never mentioning her. And insulting someone’s family member was almost never going to get a good reaction.

     Thankfully, Mrs. Beldom let it slide and cheerfully grinned. “Oh, do I? I guess it makes me the _better_ version of Ava!” She posed, sticking out a hip and olacing a finger to her chin, and it almost had me laughing. Feeling a bit down at the moment, I just gave a smile, and Mrs. Beldom sighed.

     “Well, Ava was right about a few things. You’re a tough nut to crack.” Mrs. Beldom brought a fist down onto her open palm, her eyes shining in determination. “Still, I won’t give up! I’m going to make you laugh one of these days!”

     When no reaction came, Mrs. Beldom sighed and slumped her shoulders, seeming tired from trying to make me laugh. “Wow, usually people at least _smile_ when they see that. How gloomy can you get?” I didn’t respond, merely stared at Mrs. Beldom until she finally opened the door and let me out.

     As we walked down the hallways, everyone was whispering and gesturing excitedly. A crank screeched from down one hallway before it quieted, and all of the doctors and nurses were standing as if they were paralyzed, waiting for any news. A door creaked open, and a doctor stepped out. All eyes were on him, and he responded with, “We’re going to have to wait until the Crank gets better. But I think it’s safe to say that it will get better.”

     Everyone in the hallways cheered, and I could make out what some of them were saying. “We finally found the Cure!” “We’re going to be saved!” “No more Cranks being shipped out in our city!” 

     Smiles were everywhere, and I felt a bit happier knowing that these people really just wanted the Cure to the Flare. Thankful that they weren’t like WCKD. After that euphoria that I got, I saw Mrs. Beldom studying my expression, a smile splitting her face. “Don’t you see what we’re doing? We just want the Cure, and with your help we’ll finally get it!”

     Somehow, it seemed to similar to what Janson or Ava had said, but not exactly there. No, it seemed more like...who was I going to say?

_“Don’t you get it? Brenda isn’t sick anymore because...because you cured her...There’s still time to save Newt...Just come back to me.”_

_“You can save us all.”_

_“I promise...I will—!” *BANG*_

     “Thomas?” A blink and I was back, Mrs. Beldom looking at me with a concerned expression. It looked _wrong_ on her face. “Is something wrong?” 

     I didn’t want to talk about it, and, thankfully, I didn’t have to. A soldier, the strawberry-blonde from outside the city with Smiley back there, burst through one of the doors, panting heavily. “There’s someone outside of the city, and I think it’s one of WCKD’s doctors or nurses. They’re asking for Thomas to come out. They want to say something to Thomas.”

     “What are you waiting for?!” I jumped out of my skin, terrified by how Faker just materialized out of nowhere. “Kill the mother-fucker!”

     “But she has a bomb strapped to her.” The girl swallowed, and I felt some sympathy towards the girl. She probably has never had this ever happen to her. “If we don’t comply, she’ll explode. We only have an hour and ten minutes left, and if we don’t respond, she’ll blow up.”

     “Let her blow up!” My jaw dropped at how heartless Faker was. “We can’t lose Thomas, he could cure us all!”

     “I bet you that WCKD has more explosives around the city.” Mrs. Beldom spoke up, and everyone fell silent. “If she blows up, then all of the explosives around the city blow up as well. We need to let her speak to Thomas. For the good of our people.”

     Faker sputtered, not knowing how to react to Mrs. Beldom going right against his opinion. “It’s Sadia, right?” Sadia nodded, awe-struck that someone as powerful as Mrs. Beldom actually remembered her name. “Go bring Thomas over to the personnel, now.” Sadia nodded, grabbing my arm and pulling me through the doors she had just burst out of.

     The maze of hallways were disorienting, but Sadia knew where she was going, as adept as traversing this as Minho was in the Maze. She ran through the hallways, guiding me down multiple flights of stairs and avoiding the traffic of people in the hallways. Everything was a blur.

     We made it out to the street, and I could see a cab driving down the lane. Sadia waved frantically at the cab, and the driver pulled over. After a quick summary of the situation, we hopped on and the driver went as fast as he could. We made it back to where I had entered the city in half the time that it took to get to the building I was in from here.

     “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise!” The driver nodded and drove off, not wanting to stick around for the aftermath. Sadia almost pushed me out of the city, telling me to “Go!” Stumbling out, I lifted a hand against the bright sun blinding me and gasped out loud.

     There, in front of the crowd of soldiers, was Amanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end. (Yay!) Hope you liked this make up chapter.
> 
> Poem:
> 
> Freedom isn’t free
> 
> Nothing in this world is
> 
> Try just to be
> 
> And you’ll fall in the abyss


	11. Bombs and Creeps (And A Confession)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope that the last chapter was good enough for you. I think that it was, but who knows? Please don’t hate me. My friend said it was good, but I think she was just saying it to be nice. I even made it extra pong to make it up to you. Pleeeaaase don’t be mad.
> 
> I am very insecure. My friend is more outgoing, but I am the quiet kid. That’s the only reason I write at all. So, please be nice when you say it sucks. Thank you.
> 
> Now, let’s continue...

     Amanda stood in front of the soldiers and took all the verbal abuse Smiley was giving her. Even though I have barely known Amanda, I could tell that she was getting riled up underneath the blank look she was wearing. Smiley pushed Amanda, and everyone held their breath, thinking that the bomb might go off. “Go on! Do it!” she screamed, holding Amanda by the collar of her purple shirt.  

     “Katy!” Smiley, aka Katy, paused in her asault of Amanda. Sadia ran up to Katy and Amanda, stopping only to breathe before prying Katy’s fingers off of Amanda’s shirt. “What are you doing?” Katy was livid, foaming at the mouth.

     Then our eyes locked, and Katy lost it. She screamed and pulled her hair, before charging at the crowd, intending to reach me. Sadia pulled on her shirt, encouraging other’s to hold her back as well. Katy screamed, yelling, “You sick fuck! Why are you just watching me die like all the other scientists?!”

     Her shirt began to rip, and Sadia let go as if the shirt had burned her, but it was ripped enough to reveal a maze of black veins criss-crossing along her stomach. The rips thankfully didn’t reveal anything men aren’t usually supposed to see, but we could see that she was infexted, which was a whole lot worse. A male soldier wrapped something around Katy’s mouth, to keep her from biting, but I could still hear Katy screaming. Tears streamed down Sadia’s cheeks, and she sank to the floor, sobbing as they took Katy away.

     She turned to me, her eyes bloodshot from crying, and she dove for me, wrapping her arms around me and sobbing into my chest. Very confused and uncomfortable, I loosely hugged the girl and tried to soothe her, but I couldn’t get the words out od my mouth. It reminded me too much of Janson after he—

     “Thomas?” I lifted my head to see Amanda walking forward, her face alight with emotion. “I need to tell you something. If you don’t come back, Janson will blow this place up. I didn’t want to meet you again like _this_ , but—!” Her voice cut off, and her eyes glazed over.

     “Janson is giving you a choice. Come back and no one dies, or everyone dies and he’ll force you to come back.” Some kind of internal struggle was happening in Amanda right in front of my eyes. She switched between robotic and emotional.

     It seemed she finally won out, for the moment. Sadia backed off when Amanda stepped closer to me, and I yelped when Amanda moved so quickly I didn’t even notice until it was too late. She grabbed one of the guns out of a soldier’s hands and held it to her head, tears glistening as they slid down. “Thomas, I need to tell you something. Janson will _kill_ to have you back, and I don’t want anyone else to die.” 

     “Why? Why does he always do this to me?!” Amanda didn’t answer. No, she _couldn’t_ answer.

     “Thomas.” The sun was behind Amanda, and though it hurt to look, I kept my eyes on Amanda. “Thank you. Remember, I was never here.” *BANG*

     Horrified, I watched Amanda collapse to the floor, the dirt beneath her soaking up the blood flowing out of her head. No one could speak, and Amanda lay there in silence. Then, I could hear an explosion from the distance. Smoke billowed from behind the wall, and everyone gaped in shock. 

     “Katy...?” A whisper, barely louder than the silence, floated by. Sadia’s tears had dried up, her hand raised to her mouth in horror and shock. She turned to me, crying, “Save Katy! _Please_!”

     She grabbed my arms in hysteria, screaming and crying. “She can’t die now! Not when the Cure is right here! SAVE HER!” Two female soldiers gave me sympathetic looks as they dragged Sadia away, appearing to be barely holding back their own tears.

     I couldn’t speak. There was no time. Running back into the city, my feet were on autopilot as I ran through the streets, managing to avoid the cars somehow. Everything was a blur. I can’t remember anything other than the torrent of emotions swirling about, fighting each other for dominence. 

     Then I saw Mrs. Beldom, surprised at my face, and I began demanding that they take my blood and make another batch of the Cure. I can still remember what she asked. “Why? We don’t even know if it can actually cure anyone.” 

     “Come on! I need to save Katy from the Flare! Do it, please!” Begging on my knees was something I never thought I would do, but I was actually on my knees and begging anyone to make the Cure. 

     At last, a doctor stepped forward and took my blood, hurrying over to the lab where all the chemicals were located. It took a while, but they managed to bring Katy in before she was thrown out. She was clinging onto her santiy, but it was slowly slipping from her. Her screeches were unbearable, and my ears felt like they were bleeding as she screamed.

     Howls from behind the door entered the hallway, and no one stayed to hear the rest of it. I sat in the hallway, receiving pitying glances and sympathetic looks, but I paid no attention to them. Worry sat in my gut like a stone, and anger curled around my heart, icy and cold. Janson wants me back...for what, exactly? Why would I leave if these people are actually trying to save the world from the Cure?

_Janson will kill them all. It doesn’t matter if they are cured or not if they are all dead._ All of my friends were here, in this town. If I don’t leave, Janson will just blow them all up. 

_But how will I know that Janson won’t just bomb them all anyways? How can I be_ sure _that my friends will be safe if I leave?_ I wasn’t sure. In fact, I believe that no matter what I do, these people will die. _But I have to try._  

     Nothing could change my mind now. I had to leave, for the chance that Janson _might_ stick to his word and not blow everyone up. Maybe I could convince Janson not to kill anyone, or jail them. But that was a big if.

     My train of thought braked when someone cleared their throat, twice. I lifted my head and almost began to cry right then and there. It was Brenda, waving her hand at me and smiling. Behind her, I could see Gally, Vince, Jorge, Minho, Sonya, Harriet, and Aris all grinning at me.

     Before I could cry, I embraced Brenda, hugging her just as tightly as she was. Everyone else joined in, and we were all hugging and trying to hold back tears. Now I knew, I knew I couldn’t not leave. If I can save them, even if it’s a lie and Janson will kill them anyways, I had to try. Otherwise, what was the point of seeing another day?

     “Thomas, I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it sooner! They wouldn’t let us in, but Mrs. Beldom finally allowed us to meet you and—I’m so sorry!” Brenda burst into tears, crying into my shoulder. I patted her back and smiled, knowing that my cheeks would burn later.

     I don’t mind, though. For my friends, smiling is _always_ worth it. “Brenda, don’t cry over something that trivial. I should have tried to come by you guys instead of you coming to me.” Brenda gasped and pulled away, half-heartedly glaring at me.

     “Don’t say that!” Brenda huffed and looked away, seemingly mad at me, though her smile told a completely different story. 

     “Hey, Greenie.” Gally moved to be in my view, trying to glare, but his lips felt the need to smile. “Don’t forget about us.”

     Every part of me screamed to laugh, but I grinned instead. “How could I forget you?” Sonya and Harriet tried to edge in, and I was split between who to talk to. Everyone was talking over each other, and for a few minutes I forgot about why I was even there.

     However, everything comes to an end, and this was no different. Clearing her throat, Mrs. Beldom took all of our attention. “I was hoping that you would get Thomas to laugh, but cracking a smile is good enough, I suppose.” 

     Then Mrs. Beldom moved on to more pressing matters. “Thomas, I have been told everyone else’s side of the story, but you probably know more than everyone else. Tell me everything, and no holding back. Now, follow me. Let’s go somewhere more private.”

     Bumping into scientists every so often, we were following Mrs. Beldom into a room when I came across a window and saw the damage from the explosion. My legs stopped moving, and I could only stare at what had happened to part of the city. Parts of the buildings were all over the streets, and the stone was blackened. There was a tiny blood splatter _all the way up here_ , in the right corner of the window.

     “Oh, yes. Quite a tragedy. It seemed that your friend was the trigger, not the actual bomb. We still don’t know how WCKD did it, but we’re examining the body for any clues.” _How can you just refer to Amanda as ‘the body?!’_

     Silently seething under the surface, I let Mrs. Beldom escort us to the private room, closing the door behind us. The noises from out in the hallway silenced once the door shut, and it reminded me of my room in WCKD. _Stop, you’re not in WCKD...yet._

     “Please, have a seat.” With a strained smile, I sat down in one of the chairs surrounding a large grey table, my friends doing the same. Mrs. Beldom sat across from me, all of her movements refined. “Now, who was she?”

     Contemplating my answer, I gave some of the truth. “She was one of the personnel in WCKD. More like a nurse than anyone else. Her name was A—Dr. Crawford.” Her first name seemed wrong to say aloud, and I just couldn’t force myself to say it. 

     Mrs. Beldom nodded in understanding, I think. Her painted nails tapped against the table, and stress grew with each tap. “Okay,” she said slowly, drawing out the word longer than she normally would have. “So, why did she want to talk to you?” 

     All eyes were on me, and I could feel sweat begin to form on my skin. “She—She was there to tell me that Janson knows I’m here.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see everyone tense. “If I don’t come out, he’ll kill everyone here and take me anyways.”

     “Janson? Isn’t he the Assistant Director? What about Ava?” Oblivious to Ava’s fate, Mrs. Beldom watched me expectantly. I winced and lowered my head.

     “Ava’s dead.” Horror was written all over Mrs. Beldom’s face, and I hardly looked at her for a second before looking away. “Janson shot her over a year and a half ago.”

     Mrs. Beldom was quiet for a few seconds, before clearing her throat. Her mascara was running a bit, but Mrs. Beldom hardened her face. “Well, that’s...unpleasant news to hear.” Guilt washed over me at the sound of Mrs. Beldom’s wavering voice.

     “Let’s continue, shall we?” Relieved that Mrs. Beldom was changing the subject, I nodded gratefully. “So, Janson wants you back, and he’ll kill anyone to get to you?” I nodded, nervous at how Mrs. Beldom phrased it. _Would_ Janson actually kill anyone to get at me?

     “What’s so important about you, then? Why does he want you so badly?” My mouth opened, ready to say probably one of the biggest reasons why—I can’t. My hands were clammy and cold, and I swallowed nervously. I couldn’t do it.

     “Because I’m the Cure. The only one that exists right now.” There. It is one of the reasons.

     Though I knew that she couldn’t read my mind, her eyes seemed to see right through me. She leaned forward a bit, and my hands became slick with sweat. “Is that the _only_ reason?” Everyone stared at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

     I wanted—no, I _needed_ to say yes, to say everything. But I couldn’t. My mouth wouldn’t let me. On its own, my body replied, “Yes.” I wanted to scream, pull my hair out, do something to vent out, but I couldn’t do anything I wanted. 

     Mrs. Beldom was satisfied for the moment, nodding but not quite believing. Her face told me she wanted to talk more about it, but, gratefully, she moved on. “What did they do to you in WCKD?” 

     It was so easy. All I needed to do was say it—and then I’d be free. Yet it was so hard, even impossible, to say the truth. “They just locked me up, put me to sleep and then they would take my blood.” _And Janson was a creep._

     “Okay, that’s enough information.” A sigh escaped me, and my shoulders slumped. Why can’t life just let me relax. Mrs. Beldom started to stand and then stopped, like she forgot something. “Is there anything else you want to say?”

_Yes._ “No,” my body replied. Helplessly stuck, I was forced to watch myself leave with my friends, talking with them and smiling whenever they did or said something humorous. But I wasn’t doing any of it. I was like a puppet, manipulated to say and do things I don’t want to do. 

     Every time I tried to _really_ talk to my friends, or act out of character, my body would stop me and continue acting normally. It was so _humiliating_ , having your friends be _right there_ , only for your body to keep you from warning your friends that something was off. We made it to a cab, where we bid goodbye to Mrs. Beldom.

     Brenda brushed a piece of hair out of her face and behind her ear, and that was when I noticed that her hair grew longer. It was now below the shoulder, long and dark. 

_Like Teresa’s hair._

     Where did that thought come from? The thought was gone as fast as it came. “Hey, Thomas.” Time for me to come out of my mind.

     I nodded, showing that I was paying attention, and Brenda continued. “What did Janson do with the Cure once it was made?” That question actually got me thinking. _What_ did _Janson do with the Cure?_

     “To keep control over people.” My mouth moved before I could think, and it kept rolling along. “He wants total control, so he would force people to do what he wanted in order for them to get the Cure, and if they didn’t do what they were told, Janson would take them off of both lists.”

     “Lists of what?” That was the same question I had asked before, with no answer. This time, however, I seemed to know, for I answered without hesitation.

     “First list is whether or not they can have the Cure. The second list is for the people in WCKD. If the people in WCKD are untrustworthy, Janson erases them off of the list and writes their names down on a seperate list, the one that has the names of potential traitors.” _How do I know all of this?_  

     Mouth hanging open, Brenda had a shocked and horrified expression, similar to Sadia’s when the explosion had occured. “Wow. Not even the people who work for WCKD are safe, huh?” I shook my head.

     We stayed silent for the rest of the car ride. There was nothing to fill that silence with, and I didn’t even try. There was no point.

     Once we arrived to the room, the workers there ushered me into a seperate room than the ones my friends were staying in. It was rather pleasant. A soft bed, fuzzy blankets, a nightstand, and a clean bathroom. There was a dresser with a mirror on top.

     When I looked into the mirror, I half-expected the mirror to crack. My reflection looked _awful_. Dark circles were prominent, I looked skinny as hell, my hair was an absolute mess, and my clothes had gotten somewhat dirty. My cheekbones stood out, and then I remembered that I had nothing to eat.

     Everything had happened so fast that I forgot about my emtpy stomach, which came back with a vengeance. It felt like a beast was gnawing away at my insides, wanting something to eat, and I staggered to the door. I needed to find food, I was starving.

     With a shaky hand, I managed to twist the doorknob and open the door. Not more than a few steps out, and I couldn’t walk without a hand on the wall, supporting me as I searched for food. My throat was parched, and my entire body felt like one big bruise.

     One of my feet tripped on the other, and I almost crashed into the ground. Luckily, I managed to steady myself before I could fall, but I wasn’t in the clear just yet. I had to go to the kitchen.

     A blessing came in the form of a staff member, whom I asked for food. He readily agreed, and guided me through the building we were staying in. I looked like klunk, but the staff was nice and concerned over my well being, handing me a big, tasty sandwich with some blueberries and an apple on the side. He allowed me to eat in the kitchen, and I ate slowly, desiring to appear normal and not half-starved.

     He handed me a glass of water, and I took tiny sips, sighing when my throat finally felt normal. “Thanks,” I said, and I wanted to say more, but it would only embarrass the staff member more, and I didn’t want that. He smiled and helped me back to my room, telling me to come to him if I needed anything else. I said goodbye and closed my door, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

     When I opened my eyes, I instantly regretted it. Janson was standing there, a dark look on his face. His foot tapped against the ground, expressing his irritation in a way words couldn’t. He was looking at something behind me, but all that was behind me was the door that had closed behind me.

     Janson snarled, “Leave.” Footsteps faded away into nothing, and I jumped, startled by how _loud_ it was. But there was no one here. “It’s nice to finally see you again, Tommy.” He smiled, showing off his teeth, much like a predator would to its prey.

     “It’s another shucking nightmare,” I whisper, sitting down on my bed and refusing to meet Janson’s eyes. “He’s not really here. Janson isn’t here.”

     Yelping when Janson grabbed my wrist out of nowhere, I try to pull it out of his hand. But he locks my arm in place, and I can’t move. Breathing heavily in fear, I shut my eyes tightly and turn away from where Janson was seated. A dark laugh echoed from my left, and, against my will, I shuddered. A digit ran along my jaw, leaving behind a trail of frigid skin.

     For once, I couldn’t think about anything other than the sensations, and Janson seemed to become more real and solid as time passed. “Why do you always talk to them, Tommy?” Snarls fill the void, and I cower underneath Janson’s touches and words. “Why can’t you just talk to me? Why can’t you just be with me, instead of _them_?”

     “Because you wouldn’t get it.” My body moved on its own, doing things despite my desire to not respond. This was different than my usual hallucination. “You don’t get what I’ve been going through, and you’ll always be a weird creep in my eyes. You’ll always be the villain.”

     Against my wishes, my eyelids fluttered open, and I could see...hurt(?) in Janson’s eyes. “That’s how you really feel about me?” Nodding, my eyes couldn’t stray from Janson’s eyes. It was like I was paralyzed in place.

     Then Janson leans closer, enough so that his breath begins to tickle my skin. He stares right into my eyes, as if searching for something that was hidden in them. I want to lean away, to run away, but my joints are locked in place. I can’t move, can’t fight against Janson. That thought scares me more than the thought that I’ll be alone again.

     “You’re just as pretty here as you are in real life. It’s almost as if you’re really here.” The way Janson said it, soft and longingly, grips my heart in pure terror. His hand drifts through my locks of hair, and Janson closes his eyes, lost in the feeling. 

     Without the ability to move and fight, I was forced to do everything Janson wants. Our lips touch once more, and this time the kiss is much deeper than the light and gentle one in the lab. This one isn’t gentle, apprehensive, tentative, or however you want to call it—no, this one was demanding and brutal, bruising my lips in the process. Janson’s arms are wrapping around me, holding me in a tight embrace as he continues the kiss.

     One arm wraps around my torso while the other hand holds the back of my head, trapping me in this unwanted show of affection. Caught in his embrace, I try to move, fight, kick, but my body doesn’t respond. All it does is go limp in Janson’s arms and allow Janson to do whatever he wants, like how a piece of Play-Doh molds under your hand with almost no resistance. Disgust piles up, rolling down the metaphorical snow hill of emotions and continuing to grow.

     Janson pulled away, licking his lips in a revolting manner. The taste of his lips lingered, and it was sickening. Spitting on Janson would feel so good right about now, but, somehow, Janson was keeping me paralyzed. Holding me in his arms with no chance of resistance.

     Furious at myself for not moving, tears form in my eyes once more. Still unable to move on my own, I couldn’t wipe them away and sniffled, riling up even more at the thought that I’m vulnerable in front of Janson and tearing up even more. Soon enough, I begin to silently cry, squeezing my eyes shut at the feeling of Janson wiping away my tears. “Why is it that no matter what you do, you’re just always gorgeous?” His words struck fear into my heart like lightening.

     Breathing was becoming rather difficult, and my muscles became lax. Janson moved us around so that he was relaxing against the wall, my head was resting against his chest, and my legs were stretched out on the bed. His arms wrapped themselves around me, and his hand drifted up to my hair every so often. “I’m so glad that I had agreed to that surgery earlier,” he whispered, sounding as though he was actually in the room with me.

     This wasn’t a regular hallucination. Janson was too real, too solid. _It might not even be a hallucination. Janson could actually be here, holding me._ The thought of Janson actually being in the same room as me made my breath feel like ice, burning my lungs as I inhaled the frigid air.

     “Tommy...” Janson appeared to ponder what he was going to say. _Hopefully he won’t say anything._ My eyelids drooped, my breaths deepened, and I drifted off to sleep.

     “I love you.” The mere thought of Janson saying anything _remotely_ close to those words already gave me the shivers. To hear Janson actually say them, even as I drifted off, made my insides freeze.

_Maybe Janson will forget about me, or find another Cure._ Even the part of me that said that knew it was never going to happen. Although I knew it was never going to happen, I still clung onto that foolish hope since there was nothing else for me to hold onto. Though it took forever, I finally managed to fall asleep in Janson’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, that’s it. Hope you liked it, and I’m sorry for not uploading the other stories, but I had multiple ideas for this story that I couldn’t wait to write. So, don’t be mad.
> 
> Anyways, creepy Janson is back! (Yay!) It might seem a bit confusing how Janson was there, but don’t worry. I have an explanation. It seems far fetched, but WCKD has a lot of technology, so I say yes, the explanation is very possible.
> 
> See you in the next chapter/story!
> 
> (Sorry, but I’m going to have to hold off on the poems for a bit. Thanks for understanding.)


	12. Subject 015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is going to take a while. I didn’t really plan for the chapter to end that way, but it did. Stories write themselves, I guess. Anyways, Janson will explain why he’s there in this chapter.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this. Now, let’s jump right into it!

_A rumbling echoed off the rocks, and I could see the lights of Bergs in the distance. A girl with long black hair stood in front of me, the sun setting in the distance behind her. She was about to cry, holding it in for as long as she could. “Please don’t fight them, Thomas.”_

_Though I didn’t even know her for very long, I could feel my heart snap in two. I felt..._ betrayed _by this girl. Hate boiled in my gut, ready to explode, but I knew that the others needed to be told. Who the others were, I don’t know. I was an outsider, seeing myself run away from the girl, who turned to face the approaching Bergs._

_Blink. The scenes shifted, and I felt a fist dig into my gut. I doubled over, and then I was pushed into line with all of my immune friends. Someone screamed out a name. Ava stepped out from the Berg, and the girl was there. My vision was stained red._

_Snarls couldn’t even begin to communicate how much I hated this girl. She broke my heart, she_ betrayed _me. How could I have ever loved this monster?_

_Soon enough Mary was shot, her shirt soaking up the blood. Vince was screaming, crying and trying to get to her. Just stay down, keep your head down._  

_Blink. I was standing with all of my friends and this blond guy I couldn’t recall, Brenda missing, and I held a bomb in my hands. For some reason, I was about to blow myself sky high. To add to my confusion, Ava genuinely seemed to care if I died or not, even going as far as to call out my name in an attempt to get me to stop. Why would I stop for that witch?_

_Janson was looming over me, a pistol held within his hands. He had it aimed at me, though he hesitated. It was enough for someone to shoot him in the shoulder, allowing me to escape. I was about to_ die _there. That was the real Janson, one that only cared for himself._

_“Minho!” He was being dragged away, electrocuted and helpless to stop the soldiers. Some other immunes were being taken away, but I cared only for Minho right now. Janson stood inside, giving his signature smirk while holding a cloth to his bullet wound, and the girl was right by Ava, having never moved from her side._

_We were all screaming for Minho, but he was gone._  

     Quietly gasping, I sat upright and instantly regretted it. My muscles hurt, my stomach was empty, my throat parched. I felt like klunk. 

     I tested my legs as I walked away from the bed, staggering a bit from the pain. Soon enough, the pain was pretty much gone, and the only discomfort I had was my parched throat and my empty stomach. Lifting my head, I scanned my surroundings for Janson. He was gone.

     I let out a sigh, thanking anything I could think of that Janson was gone. *knock* *knock* *knock* My head snapped towards the door, where it began to creak open.

     Minho popped his head through the gap between the door and the door frame, giving a lopsided smile when he saw me. “Dang it, I was hoping you’d still be asleep.” I raised an eyebrow, openly unimpressed.

     “Oh, so I guess you knocked first just to be polite, then?” A blush coated Minho’s cheeks, and he muttered something about breakfast being downstairs before he pulled his head out of my room, closing the door behind him. I let out a light laugh, relaxed and almost feeling like this could be a home. It was a happy thought, but not a very realistic one. Sooner or later, I would either leave willingly or be forced to leave.

     Janson was always the problem. _He_ was always the one that made it impossible for me to live the life I want. Laughter echoed through the room, causing me to jump out of fear. Janson was right by the curtains that I forgot to close last night. “You’re so _adorable_ when you laugh, you know.”

     Although Janson smiled and sounded rather happy(?), I could see rage simmering under the surface in the way he moved. “You always laugh for them, always smile for them.” Already I could tell that this wasn’t going to end well. “I’ve never thought of myself as a violent man,” I scoffed at that comment, but said nothing, “but right now, I really want to rip their throats out.” _Okay, that just went a_ bit _too far._

     Two strides and Janson was right in front of me, scanning my entire body and making me feel like I’m being judged. “Look at what they’ve done to you. You look like a Crank that’s managed to stay sane so far.” Those comments hurt even though I shouldn’t even care about what Janson says about me. I was offended because Janson was implying that my friends were bad to me when they were the only good people in my life, but Janson kept on going, saying something that, to be honest, really scared me.

     “Oh, I forgot to wrap the present I have for you. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll love it, Tommy.” He gave me a quick peck on the lips, so suddenly that I couldn’t even react before Janson was just _gone_. Like he had never existed in the first place.

     When Brenda entered the room, worry written all over her face, my heart was beating so loudly I was sure she could hear it. “Thomas, why aren’t you downstairs? And why are you just facing the window?” Swallow. Breathe.

     “Thomas?” Once I caught my breath again, I turned around to face Brenda. She was dressed in clean clothing that honestly didn’t really seem to fit her looks. She wore a baggy white shirt with long sleeves, the hem reaching halfway down to her kneecaps, and her pants were black with grey vertical stripes. Her shirt was clinging to her in certain spots, probably because of her somewhat wet hair, and Brenda had dark circles under her eyes. 

     “You don’t look so good Brenda.” At this she laughed, sounding like a chorus of tiny bells. Wiping away a tear, she hiccuped, her face split in half with a broad grin. 

     “Like you have any room to talk.” Without any warning, Brenda just entered my room and pushed me to the mirror that was on my dresser, allowing me to see my reflection. “Go take a _loooooong_ look at yourself, then look at me and tell me who looks worse.”

     As soon as I looked into the mirror, I almost had a heart attack. Janson wasn’t even exaggerating when he said I appeared to be a Crank still sane. My hair was all over the place, my dark circles were even darker than Brenda’s, the clothes I was wearing were practically hanging off of me, and to top it all off I was whiter than a sheet of paper. My lips were also bruised, and last night relived itself in my mind. Disgusted, I looked back at Brenda, whom’s appearance was almost angelic compared to mine.

     “Guess I do look like klunk.” Brenda, having had to learn what the Glader Slang meant early on, shook her head. 

     “No, you look like a dead bird coated in shi—I mean klunk. Now come on. I bet you’re starving by how you look.” Hearing Brenda say klunk was similar to the feeling you get when you grind your teeth on aluminum foil. I cringed at Brenda’s use of Glader slang, but I walked out the door with her without a single comment on it.

     Right after I stepped out the door, the aromas of breakfast wafted up the stairs, and I was in the dining area before Brenda could even blink. Everything was bright and colorful in the dining room, and the food had been set onto one table in the center. Everyone was already sitting down, but there was still a plate left out for me. My heart was bursting with excitement at how delicious it seemed, and I was swarmed with the feeling of delight that my friends remembered to save me food.

     Arms waving, my friends were trying to catch my attention in one of the tables at the far corner. Grabbing the plate full of delicious food, I sat down between Minho and Gally, Vince and Jorge right across from me. An empty seat by Jorge was most likely Brenda’s seat, who still hasn’t made it yet, had a plate of food in front of it that was gradually cooling down. Sonya and Harriet were chatting to my left, Aris between them and Minho. Chatter casually floated around the room, and it was actually quite calm and comfortable in there.

     Nevertheless, I couldn’t shake Janson’s words from earlier. _“Oh, I forgot to wrap the present I have for you. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll love it, Tommy.”_ My teeth clenched in anger at his nickname for me, yet I still was nowhere closer to figuring out _why_ I got so angry with him. Still, I couldn’t say that it wouldn’t be satisfying to kill him even if he had never said Tommy. 

     “Thomas!” I felt a hand smack the back of my head. It was light, but it still hurt.

     “What was that for?” Brenda scoffed and headed to her seat, not even bothering to explain her actions. Minho was stifling his snickers, and Gally had the gall (Get it?) to laugh right in front of me. Let’s just say that Gally wouldn’t do it again anytime soon.

     During the meal, Brenda didn’t speak to me at all, still somewhat pissed at something I must have done to make her upset. Maybe it was because I left her for food? Maybe it was something else I did. Anyways, I didn’t ponder it for very long because my mind was still hung up on what Janson might have in store for me. 

_What could Janson_ possibly _give me as a present?_ That’s what was going through my mind over and over again as I excused myself and trudged through the hotel(?). Someone ran full speed around the corner, bumping right into me and causing us both to fall. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to—!”

     Wondering what made the obviously female voice stop, I lifted my head and saw Sadia trying to recollect herself. “Thomas?!” Surprised to see me, Sadia openly stared at me with her mouth agape.

     “Sadia?” She squealed, and it was so high-pitched that I brought my hands to my ears hoping for even just a smidge of protection. 

     “You remembered my name!” Sadia hopped up onto her feet and lifted me up, almost pulling my arm out of my socket. “God, I can’t—I mean, you—Ahh! Get ahold of yourself!” As if to wake herself up, Sadia slapped her cheeks three times. 

     “Uhh...” I didn’t even know how to respond. This girl was acting so weirdly that I didn’t even know if what I said would be what I meant to Sadia. Shaking her head like how a dog shakes off water, Sadia was on the verge of tears.

     “Dang it, I’m getting off track! Come on, you have to see Katy! She’s actually _awake_!” Sadia’s face was shining with joy, radiating happiness like how the sun radiates heat. “Come on, you have to see her!”

     “Okay, okay!” Barely a breath to spare, Sadia pulled me along on a magical journey to see Smiley—I mean Katy! Since the hotel I was in was actually really close to the science building, it was only a 5 minute run to get there. As long as you knew where you were going, that is.

     Everyone in the hospital was excitedly whispering, or cheering, or just freaking out. Almost everyone began to talk to me or about me as we ran past, and every time they were either talking about the Cure or just something nice. But it was mostly about the Cure. “Why is everyone all hyped up today?” I asked Sadia, not even bothering to whisper as everyone was going to hear it anyways.

     “Don’t you get it?! Your blood cured the Crank that had lost its humanity about a few months ago, and it cured Katy! You can stay and cure everyone!” Her face was childishly radiant and joyful, as if she really believed I could stay here forever and cure everyone. 

     Against my gut instinct, I smiled, saying, “That’s great news!” My heart was practically torn to shreds when Sadia began to list off all the fantastic things we could do together.

     “And then, we could just sit in the tiny nature preserve we have and talk about whatever with Katy!” Nodding along, I tuned out most of what she said. Saying things that were polite to say at the time it was polite to say it in, I was on autopilot by the time we finally reached Katy’s room.

     Mrs. Beldom was standing outside the door, tapping her foot against the ground impatiently. Knees shaking at the sight of Mrs. Beldom’s face, I gulped and tried to hide my nervousness. I could tell Mrs. Beldom saw right through my facade, but, to my relief, Mrs. Beldom’s face cleared up. “There you are!” She shook my hand before placing her gaze onto Sadia, who shrunk underneath it.

     “What took you so long to get him?” Stammering and tripping over her own words, Sadia attempted to explain but came up with no solid and reasonable excuse. The hotel was, after all, only a few minutes away when running.

     “I—I’m sorry, Diana.” I mentally raised an eyebrow. _First name basis. Huh._ “I didn’t mean to.” 

     Seeing no reason as to why she should continue this, Mrs. Beldom sighed and shook her head. “Nevermind. Just hurry up and go in.” Brightening up considerably, Sadia almost skipped into the room, childish in every move she made.

     Right behind Sadia, I entered the room with the thought of a screaming Katy on my mind. However, when I entered the room, it was almost the exact opposite of what I expected. Sitting on the bed, Katy was almost completely stiff and still, her eyes glazed over, and she was wearing some kind of weird hat. Doctors asked her questions and constantly was writing something, muttering under their breath and whispering excitedly with the other doctors.

     “Excuse me!” Startled, I moved out of the way of a group of doctors pushing a hospital bed with wheels. A small child was laying on the bed, her skin darker than Sadia’s and eyeing everything. She tried to get off, but the doctors refused to let her even touch the ground. “Stay right there,” one of them ordered, directing it to the tiny child.

     Almost certainly frightened, the girl obeyed and curled up on the bed, her eyes frantically scanning the room. “Okay, I’m taking the controller off.” The male that spoke gripped the sides of the weird hat Katy was wearing, and I noticed all of the doctors tensing, including the small girl. As a precaution, I took a step back.

     “One. Two. Three!” The man backed off as soon as the hat was off, and Katy’s eyes widened. She began flailing, kicking at everything before scurrying to the back corner, panting as if she ran a marathon.

     “Where—Where the fuck am I?!” Curled up in a ball, Katy panted raggedly and was flicking her eyes in every direction she could. Sweat shone on her forehead, and her hair was so straight it resembled a wall of black. Speaking, Katy practically yelled, “I’ll kill you! I’m a fucking Crank, for crying out loud!”

     After her outburst, Katy heaved, vomiting whatever she had eaten earlier onto the floor. Now, her entire body shook as she strained to stay up. “I—I’ll kill you,” whispered Katy. Just sitting there and shaking violently, Katy appeared to be so weak and fragile to me.

     When people began to clean up the mess, Katy screeched and scrambled to get away, managing to kick one of them in the face as she moved. “Calm down, Katy!” At Sadia’s voice, Katy seemed to calm down, relaxing her straining muscles.

     “Katy.” As soon as Mrs. Beldom spoke, I could tell Katy was frightened by her voice. Her muscles tensed, and Katy’s eyes were so wide I was sure that they would pop right out with a little push. “No one’s going to hurt you,” said Mrs. Beldom, her voice calm and soothing. 

     To me, I hated that voice. It brought up memories of Janson, hallucinations of him—“No! Go away, you sick freak!” Shrieking and scratching, Katy was a Crank again, screaming and trying to get to Mrs. Beldom.

     The doctors were clinging onto Katy’s arms, keeping her at bay. Flashbacks of Katy lunging at me replayed over and over in my head, and the terror I had felt at the time resurfaced along with the memories. Scared out of my mind, my muscles locked, and I couldn’t move, too scared to even breathe at times. As if it wanted to break free, my heart hammered against my chest. I could hardly breathe, and when I did it was fast and short.

     Managing to break free from the doctors’ hold, Mrs. Beldom cowered as Katy rushed at her. Screams and cries flew through the air as Katy pummeled Mrs. Beldom’s arms, and her eyes held a gleam of insanity. When soldiers finally entered the room and dragged Katy away, she shrieked, “Let me at her!! LET ME KILL HER FOR WHAT SHE DID TO ME!!!” My heart beat fast and hard, and my brain had stopped working after what had just happened.

     Sadia ran out after Katy, crying and bawling for the soldiers to release Katy. “She did nothing wrong! She had _every right_ to want to kill Mrs. Beldom! _Please_ don’t kill her!”

     Once the hallways had gone silent, Mrs. Beldom finally and shakily got to her feet, arms bleeding profusely from Katy’s attacks. “Diana! Please hang on!” The doctors held onto Mrs. Beldom’s arms and moved her along, ordering the girl to stay on the bed.

     All of them forgot about me, and when I tried to speak the door had shut. The door locked, and when I tried to open the door it wouldn’t budge. “Those shuck-faces just locked me in here!” I kicked the door and yelled for anyone to open it, but no one came. There wasn’t even a way for me to open it from the inside, only an opening for a key to slide through, for the purpose of keeping the patients locked inside.

     Heaving, I counted to ten and attempted to calm down. _There’s no need to panic. Everything’s alright._  

     “Mister?” Remembering the little girl, I turned to see her still curled up in a ball, her eyes impossibly wide. “Are they...?” She dragged her left index finger across her throat, and I gulped at the implications. Tiny girls shouldn’t know what that means, they should be talking and having fun with other little girls. 

     I tried to smile, hoping it didn’t turn out to be a grimace. “Of course not! Katy will be fine, they’ll just give her some meds and she’ll be good to go!” Unfortunately, the girl was more skeptical and wasn’t very convinced. Actually, she seemed to be almost a bit more frightened.

     “They’re going to kill her!” Something seemed to snap inside of the child, for she began to laugh, clawing at her face and laughing all the while. “Of course they would! And they’ll kill me, too!” At that, she laughed harder.

    The girl hopped off the bed and, with no explanation as to why, began to drag herself across the floor in a random direction. “I have to leave, or they’ll kill me!” the tiny girl screamed, smiling all the while, and making it to the other side of the room. Then her head whipped around to me, creeping me out, and said, “You! You should come with me!”

     “What? No, I think I’m fine.” The child wasn’t listening and began to cackle, giving off the impression of a crazy old witch. She creeped up to me on all fours, her head tilting almost mechanically to one side as she sniffed the air. “Seriously, I really don’t want to leave.”

     “They’ll kill you, though. Drown you like that child in the corner.” Whipping my head in every direction, I scanned the entire room for any other children possibly hiding, and the girl laughed at my reaction. “Not these corners! The _other_ corner!”

     Warnings having been forgotten, the itty bitty girl latched onto my arm and pulled me away from the door with surprising strength. She pulled away a tile from the wall opposite the door to reveal a vent, hidden from everyone else’s sight. “Well, in you go!” the now insane child giggled, and she lightly pushed me towards the vent. “Otherwise you’ll never see the light of day again!”

     “What?!” Without any warning, the girl pushed me into the vent, and there was barely enough room for me to move forward. I cried out in pain as I landed not so gracefully on my left arm, wincing whenever I moved it.

     “Hurry up and move! You’re holding up the line!” Another giggle crept out of the girl’s throat, and that was enough for me to move despite the pain gnawing away at my arm.

     Soon enough, the vent became spacious enough for me and the small child to be right next to each other comfortably. “So, what do they call you? The scientists?” The question got me a bit off guard. I mean, would you expect that to come out of a girl that was jacked and some sort of psycho?

     “Thomas.” There was really no other name for me, other than “piece of shit” and “immune.” “What’s your name?” 

     The child eyed me weirdly. “My name? What’s a name?” How could this child not know what a _name_ was? 

     “It’s what you are called by everyone else. For instance, my name is Thomas, and everyone calls me Thomas or Tommy.” Her face brightened a bit in understanding, but she still didn’t seem to get something.

     “Why do they call you Tommy when your... _name_ is Thomas?” She grinned at me, obviously pleased that she’s using a new word, and I smile back, happy that she’s not as creepy anymore. 

     “Tommy is a nickname. Don’t worry, you don’t need to know about that yet.” Explaining this to a small child wasn’t clearing up her confusion, but we most likely had no time to sit around and talk. “Anyways, we should get moving.” The small child didn’t complain, and we were moving through the vents once more. 

     “...15,” she whispered, so softly that I wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t so quiet in the vent. “They called me Subject 015, but I like 15 better.” Not exactly knowing how to respond, I kept quiet, letting the silence fill up the gap between the two of us. _Getting attached to someone else is a very bad idea. Just gives Janson more of a leverage._

     A miniature hand pulled on my sleeve, getting me to stop. “There they are.” A wide, creepy grin spread out on her face, and a weird clicking noise sounded through the vent. There was an opening in the vent, covered by a grate (obviously), and I could see Diana walking down the hallway, limping. “Blood is so pretty when it isn’t her blood.”

     That was right up there on the creepy sentence list, next to Janson saying, “I love you.” The most creepiest things I’ve ever heard, and it’s from a man that doesn’t understand what private boundaries are, and a small child that has “lost her marbles” as some would say. This just goes to show what kind of people I surround myself with. “Let’s coat these walls in her blood, to make it not clean or pretty.” In the small girl’s eyes, determination shone.

     “I...” I couldn’t respond, for how could I? Without knowing 15’s trigger words, I’m left to blindly stumble around hoping I don’t step into a bear trap.

     Her hand, small compared to mine, wrapped around my wrist as much as it could, and 15 whispered excitedly, “It’ll be so much fun! I could show you how to kill someone to thank you! Or, perhaps I could show you something more...” 15 left off, shutting up as a soldier walked right underneath us. If he had looked up, the soldier might have seen our eyes reflecting the light in the vent.

     “These idiots must be really stupid! They haven’t even realized we left that room! Well, you weren’t even supposed to be locked in there, so I guess you’re still off the hook...” Snickers echoed through the vent as we watched the unsuspecting doctors and soldiers roaming about the halls, with some civilians being guided down the hallways. 

     As one of the civilians was almost dragged away screaming, 15’s face darkened. “Poor Lucy...All she wanted was to be cured, just like the rest of us...” 15 fell silent, and I never said anything about it, scared to even think about how 15 might react.

     Then 15’s head perked up, her eyes widening a bit. Not in fright, but rather in joy. “They finally figured it out!” 15 squealed, watching the doctors scurrying about a bit faster. “They’re like rats in a maze, searching for the piece of cheese that’s hanging by a string right above their heads.” Humming a tune I’ve never heard of, 15 appeared as if she could watch the people below all day long. 

     However, she proved me wrong, for she began to crawl forward again with a purpose. “Come on! Let’s go and see sunshine!” The way 15 said that had my heart breaking out of sympathy, for it sounded like 15 had been locked up for such a long time that she didn’t even remember what sunshine was. Something inside, however, told me that 15 would not take sympathy well at all.

     We were crawling forward for a bit, comfy silence hanging between the two of us like a veil. At least, for 15. Not so much for me. My muscles were constantly tensed, waiting for 15 to do something drastic and crazy.

     We both hopped out into the weapons closet, with me hopping out first and then catching 15 once she jumped. Without even saying a word, 15’s head snapped in the direction of the door, and she walked over to it. “You can’t hide from me like that,” she cooed, and the door creaked ominously as 15 opened the door. Right behind the door was a woman, her hand lowered to turn the doorknob.

     Surprised that the door opened on its own, she had no chance against 15. Within the blink of an eye, the soldier’s head had been ripped off. “Aww, that wasn’t very satisfying...” 15 pouted, acting like a child that had been denied candy. Throwing the head to the ground, 15 spat on the head and continued down the corridor with a walk that was on the fence on whether to be predatorial or creepy.

     “5, they’re gone! Come on out!” 15 yelled down the corridor, not even thinking about how the soldiers have ears, too. “5?”

     “Over here...” A door at the end of the hallway, to my left, creaked open, and I could see someone’s eye staring right at us. “Hurry...”

     Catching up to 15, who was already at the end of the corridor, I pushed the door open a bit. The door groaned as it gradually opened. A young boy with pale white skin covered in bruises, and whom’s blond bangs casted shadows over their big brown eyes, stood alone in the room, backing up a bit when he saw me. To my surprise, the boy shook with obvious fear, yet he didn’t run away or hide. He just thrusted his chin up and almost glared at me.

     The door sluggishly closed, and the only light shining were the lit candles on the floor and bed. The bed had been pushed to the center of the room, freeing up the corners. The lighting and position of the bed really creeped me out, but I didn’t comment. Fear of how the kids would respond kept my mouth shut, especially after the scene of the soldier’s head being ripped off replayed once more in my head.

     “9, there you are! Where’s 5? I need to have a chat with his sack!” 15 grinned, her mouth and face twitching every few seconds. 

     “Umm...5 told me to tell you that he wasn’t... _feeling_ rather well today...” Contradicting his stubbornness from earlier, his voice was soft and shy, and he never looked 15 in the eye. “He’s...doing something with 4 right now...”

     Out of nowhere, 15 froze, her face perpetually stuck in her crazy grin expression. “5 is with 4...?” A laugh bubbled up her throat, and then 15 cackled once more, howling with her insanity. “Of course he’s with 4! Where else would that no-good poopy face be?!”

     9 shuffled his feet, uncomfortable and glancing at me for some reason. I was just as uncomfortable as 9, and just as clueless. Then 15’s laughter abruptly cut off, her head tilting to one side. “Uh oh...” whispered 9, knowing what was happening. 

     Left in the dark, I didn’t know what was happening when both children ran to a corner and sat down on the floor, facing the corners and plugging their ears. “1 is coming, yes he is. Run to the corner and he will miss,” the children sang, over and over again while plugging their ears. “He was drowned for taking one single buck. Now we will drown if we don’t duck.”

     Creeped out, I wanted to run to the door. While I decided whether or not to, the sound of sloshing water met my ears. “...” The children stopped singing, and all I could hear was water hitting stone walls. Following the children’s song, I ran to one of the corners to the left of the door and crouched, plugging my ears and squeezing my eyes shut.

     There was complete silence for a minute, and I was hoping that the worst had come to passed. 

     As I lifted my head, the door began to groan as it reluctantly opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...that’s it. Sorry that this was thrown to you out of the blue, I just wanted to write a creepy story instead of just having the normal Thomas-escapes-Janson-only-to-be-chased-and-get-captured-again story, you know, to add to it. I don’t like those kinds of stories, and I want to add a plot and get Thomas to realise that maybe, maybe he’s needed more than he thought. Get into contact with people he’s cured and haven’t cured.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter. Tell me if you didn’t, and if you don’t say anything that’s okay, too.
> 
> See you all in the next chapter/story!


	13. Blood, Guts, and Chocolate Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me except for this disclaimer. Everything else belongs to Lily Bird Flower and the developers of the movies.
> 
> So, the last chapter was a bit...all over the place. And I’ll try to tie up all the loose ends from the entire story in new chapters, but this chapter isn’t going to answer a lot of the questions. Sorry about that.
> 
> But, it may turn out to be completely different than what I expected. I just type and let the story fly on by. I have the plot, and just let my fingers type until I have a very long chapter that still somewhat fits the storyline I have (somewhat) devoloped.
> 
> Nur123: I think this is a bit unfair, but I wanted to say thank you. You were really nice and always wanted more, and, not wanting to disappoint you, I’m making these chapters as fast as I can. Hope you like them all! And don’t worry, I’m making sure you’ll understand in the near future. Just not in this chapter.
> 
> To everyone else, thank you all for being so nice and supportive. It really helps me stay focused on my story instead of just leaving it here to rot. And yes, I will make it so everyone understands what is happening. So thank you all for reading, and I hope you’ll continue to read this (though it is utter crap).
> 
> Anyways, on with the story!

     Ducking once more, I couldn’t breathe as the door creaked open. Water spread across the floor, soaking through my worn sneakers and touching my skin with its icy fingers. I plugged my ears once more and held my breath, waiting for the water to recede. The fear was so powerful, every part of me was shaking, shivering at the water filling up the room.

     The candles began to go out, one by one, until all that was left were the candles resting on the bed. Darkness crept into the corners, and I expected hands to reach out and grab me at any second, for Janson to be there. Rather quickly, I pushed that thought down.

     Aside from the water gradually rising, nothing else was happening. Everything else was still as far as I could see. The silence from plugging my ears was unbearable, so maybe I could unplug them for just a bit...

     Right before I could, though, water slammed into the corner inches above my head. Shocked out of my skin, I couldn’t even scream because of how terrified I was. The blast was enough to crack the wall, which was solid concrete. Imagining my head as that wall was rather easy to do, and it just feaked the klunk out of me even more. 

     Again, the water slammed into the wall, missing my shoulder by mere inches. My heart leapt to my throat, forcing me to keep quiet. Shutting my eyes, I took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, calming down against the desire to scream and run for it. Then, the voice of a small boy began to sing.

     “It’s raaaaaining...It’s poooouring...The ooold man is snoooring...He bumped his heeeead on his beeed, and he didn’t wake up in the mooooorning...” Water rammed into the floor, the ceiling, the walls, anywhere but the corners.

     Everything shook, and sometimes a piece of the ceiling would fall to the floor, making a splash as it fell into the water. The water level was now right above my stomach, and everything underneath my stomach was soaked in water. Frosty water stung my skin, the pain similar to the sharp prick of a needle. It was so cold that if I opened my eyes, I could see my own breath. That is, if I opened my eyes in the first place.

     At first, I didn’t even notice that the water had stopped until it began to recede. Even after the water level lowered, heat was still leaving me rapidly. I sneezed, and the sound of it echoed through the room. Lifting my head and turning around, I wished that all of the candles had gone out, for standing in the doorway, a small child met my eyes. Rather, he would have if he had any eyes left.

     Dark holes glared at me where the eyes should have been, the skin was falling right off the poor child, its teeth hid behind nothing, for its lips were gone, and its entire body was pale white or, with its hands and feet, a shade of blue. Its hair had fallen out, along with pieces of the scalp, and the nails were long gone as well. A chunk of its hand, the entire thumb and some of the palm, fell onto the floor and created a small thump as it did so. However, the child didn’t notice and was facing me for only a few more seconds before it walked out the door. Bile rose up in my throat, and I only had a few seconds after the walking corpse had left to prepare myself before I threw up on the dry concrete floor. 

     Glancing back up, I could still see the blue thumb laying on the floor, the skin dried and cracked severely. Pieces of the flesh were missing, and the edges of those holes were black and smelled horribly like rotten fish and spoiled eggs. I gagged, revolted and queazy.

     Out of the blue, a hand suddenly placed itself on my shoulder, yet I didn’t even bat an eye at it, for the thumb laying on the floor disgusted me enough that I forgot how to be scared for the moment. Instead, I merely lifted my head up to see 9 standing over me, his hand comfortingly resting on my shoulder. “That was 1. He’s the one that keeps this place in order,” the kid explained, as if that would help my stomach stop rolling. “Yes, he drowned, but death won’t stop him from running this place.”

     “What do you mean ‘this place?’” 15 was relighting the candles with a match, dancing around the pieces of the ceiling on the floor. How she managed to keep the match dry was beyond me. Maybe it was lying on the bed for times like these. “Aren’t we still in...?”

     I just realized that I didn’t even know what the building was called. In a rocky boat and a horrible situation, I had no clue which direction to go, what the rules were in this place, or even just what the name of this place was. These tiny children were the only ones that could help me right now, and pissing them off wouldn’t ever be a good idea.

     When all the candles were relit, 9 turned back to me and said, “Oh, we still are in this god-forsaken building, all right.” Contempt was written all over 9’s face, and his nose was scrunched up in distaste. “But this is _our_ territory. 1 rules these parts, not the scientists.”

     His dark bruises contrasted his pale skin, catching my attention. “So, how’d you get all those bruises?” I asked, trying not to seem nosy and all up in others’ business.

     9 looked away, and his expression was one of...embarrassment? “It was from trying to sneak into the scientists’ territory...When you become one of us, you have to either escape or be forced to lose more of yourself. 1 helped me escape before he was drowned, so I...” 9 blinked rapidly, holding back tears. 

     “Anyways...when you live here, there isn’t any food waiting around on a silver platter before _that_...So we had to go into the scientists’ territory and not get caught...That was why you were with 15 in the first place, because she got caught right before _that_ happened...” After a short period of silence, about a few seconds, 15 was back from examining the thumb, skipping around my vomit and the rubble.

     “9, where is 5? I need to have a chat with his sack and 4,” said 15, her eye twitching when she mentioned 4.

     Uncomfortable, 9 shuffled his feet before responding. “He, uhh...He’s in the...recreation room?” Having not known him for very long, I couldn’t know whether 9 was uncertain or whether he was just really shy when 15 demanded answers. 

     Either way, 15 took it rather well. At least, I think so. “Great! Lead the way!” And that was how 9 joined us, albeit unwillingly. 

     “Hey, can I get one of the, um, weapons we saw earlier?” Without waiting for an answer, I turned around and left the room. 15 didn’t call out for me, and neither did 9, so I wasn’t feeling too bad about leaving them. They probably wouldn’t even notice that I was gone if I hadn’t told them that I was grabbing some guns.

     The first thing I noticed was the absence of the corpse. That soldier should have been lying there, decapitated, but the floor and walls were sparkly clean without even the slightest hint that there ever was a body. Second thing was that the door was open, and two guns, one electric gun and one pistol, were laying on the floor where the corpse had been. There was no note, and nothing to suggest that it was a gift for me, or someone else. When I picked it up, I noticed a piece of pearly white skin stuck to the side of both guns and shuddered, remembering the shambling corpse walking out of the room. 

     I never mentioned it to 15 or 9, but I did ask them, “What happens if you look at 1?” They gave each other a look and burst out giggling like school girls over some crush, and they “reassured” me that as long as I never ever looked at 1, I was fine.

     “We’ve seen people who’ve looked at 1. Their heads were crushed, and their blood would be used to write out the same message over and over again. ‘Don’t be rude and judge others by their looks. It really hurts, especially if they try to help you.’ It was weird, but we learned pretty quick that if you look at 1, you’re sure to die, so don’t look at him.” Then 15 patted me on the shoulder and grinned before picking up a candle and a few matches from the match box resting on the bed.

     When 15 touched my clothes after she finished grabbing things, she gasped in surprise, shocked at the freezing temperature. “Thomas, you’re so cold! Better get you dry and out as fast as we can; you don’t know what kind of diseases lurk through these hallways.” After that, 15 never strayed from my side as we walked through the hallways, and she tried her best to keep me warm. She wasn’t as efficient as a heater, but her caring self had me feeling a bit warmer than before.

     Other than that, I now know that 9 was really terrified of almost everything, for he was always jumping at any noise we made, and he was constantly asking questions in whispers. “What if 1 comes back and there are no corners? What if one of the soldiers come around the corner? What if 1 unexpectedly comes around the corner and we all look at him?” 

     Never tiring of 9’s questions, 15 always responded to his questions. “Well, we’ll find a room and hide in the corners. I’ll kill them, since this is _our_ territory. He won’t surprise us, since we’ll hear the water moving, and if we, all of a sudden, lose our hearing, we’re all dead. And why are you whispering?”

     Seeing 9 and 15 talking back and forth, with 9 being scared of almost everything, was entertaining, in a way. But I noticed that something was _off_ with 9. He was so stubborn and confident in the room, but out here he was always scared and jumping at any noise, contrasting his previous behavior. Maybe it was because he was in his room, and because he’s out here, he’s terrified. Or maybe not.

     15 gently stuffed the rotting thumb into one of the pockets on the sides of her dress, and when I, queazy and disgusted, asked her why, she merely stated, “Oh, it’s a present for Beldom. I want to see how she reacts to seeing 1’s thumb!” Freaking me out with her grin, I never asked why these kids all hated Mrs. Beldom out of the fear that I wouldn’t like the answer. Maybe I’m similar to 9, in the way that he’s scared enough to ask questions but always hating the answers 15 gives him.

     We followed 15, holding an unlit candle, until the lights flickered a bit. Holding our breaths, we stopped and waited until the lights stopped flickering and returned to normal. “5 usually does that, though I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Beldom doing that,” 15 huffed, strutting forward once more. It was like that for a while, before—

     “I think I heard water! It’s 1!” screamed 9, bolting for the nearest room. 15 paused and listened, closing her eyes and breathing much more quietly. Then 15’s eyes widened with glee. 

     “It’s not 1, you silly! It’s the tap water running! And where there’s a tap running...” 9 peeked out from behind the door, with his face showing his disbelief.

     “There’s 4?” 15 nodded, her face distorting into one of madness. In the light, with her hair framing her face and casting shadows over her eyes, she resembled a Crank having gone off the high end. 

     “5...4...Come on ooooout...” Her lilting voice spread through the hallways, and beneath the sound of her voice, I could hear the aforementioned water running.

     Suddenly, 15 burst through one of the doors to our right, screeching and howling in victory. “I found you, 4!” Another screech, this one lower-pitched and filled with fear, found its way to my ears. “God, stop crying! You’ll attract 1 with how loud you’re screaming.”

     Against my instincts, I stepped into the room, looking around the room. There were a lot of...stuff hanging off of the walls, and there were a lot of wooden boards with pieces of plastic in different colors and shapes on them, and the size of the room would have impressed me if I was looking around. But those didn’t catch my eye. What caught my eye was the girl 15 was standing over, her sharp nails pointing right at the much larger girl’s neck.

     The girl who must be 4 had bright red hair, and was probably much closer to my age than 15. Green eyes stared up at 15, frightened by what 15 would do to her, and her olive skin shone with perspiration. There were only one or two bruises on her skin, and those were already almost healed, faded to the point to where there was only a faint purple outline. She panted, catching her breath from screaming, but 15 wasn’t getting off. Instead, her hand rose a bit, like how it did before she sliced off the soldier’s head.

     “15!” Her hand froze, and it seemed like 15 just now noticed my presence. Not wishing to see another decapitated corpse, I hesitantly gripped 15’s wrist in my hands, knowing that I was balancing on a very thin line. “Don’t...waste your nails on her. Don’t you want to keep your nails long and sharp for Mrs. Beldom?”

     That seemed to do the trick. 15 reluctantly climbed off of 4, who brushed off her clothes and gratefully smiled at me like she wasn’t about to die moments earlier. “Hmph! I only let you live because I want to save these nails for Beldom! I don’t want to stain pretty blood with Beldom’s blood!” A look of revulsion showed on 15’s face before it was replaced with her signature crazed expression. 

     I rolled my eyes at how childish 15 was being right now before reminding myself that 15 was a child, one that shouldn’t even be in this situation right now and flinched at the last sentence 15 had said, still not used to her bouts of insanity. “So, you’re Thomas?” 4 beamed at me, showing off her straight, somewhat clean teeth. “You’d be cute if you didn’t look like shit,” 4 says with a wink, and heat rushes to my cheeks at her statement, not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.

     15 huffs and glares at 4, clearly despising 4 for something. 9, on the other hand, is indifferent and simply grumbles, “We have to find 5, not stand around flirting with each other...” Then he muttered something under his breath, and the only word I caught was “alone.”

     To my surprise, 15 ran up to my side and grabbed my hand, having no reason to even run to me. “We need to find 5, so Thomas doesn’t get sick, and I can eat his eyes for lunch! Wait, is it even noon yet?” 4, with a shrug directed to me, shook her head as a response. I could taste the bile in my throat when 15 spoke, and I hoped that this wasn’t a very common thing to say for her. 

     Pouting, 15 crossed her arms again and said, “Well, then I’ll have brunch! Ooh, maybe I could try eating his sack! That thing bouncing around always annoyed me...What do you want for brunch, _Thomas_?” The way 15 said my name gave me the shivers, and it dawned on me at how _normal_ this was for everyone here to say.

     “I already ate breakfast. I don’t think I need anything else to eat.” At this, 15 frowned in concern.

     “But you threw up on the floor earlier, so your stomach must be empty,” 15 pointed out, and my stomach betrayed me by growling in hunger. Smiling in victory, 15 dragged me, 9, and somehow managed to also drag 4 along to the kitchen. “Let’s see what they gave us to eat today before we hunt 5! Hope it isn’t something _nasty_ , or else _that_ will happen again.”

     I wanted to ask what had happened, but 4 violently shook her head and mouthed, “No,” and I kept my mouth shut. My stomach grumbled once more, and I could feel the familiar sensation of my stomach eating away at me from the inside. Hunger clawed at my insides, but it was still weak and small. Maybe it would even go away after I see what they eat. Crossing my fingers behind my back, I enter the kitchen with high—more like low—expectations for the food, hoping it wouldn’t even come close to meeting them.

     Yet, to my disbelief, 15 brought back food that blew my mind. The aroma already had my mouth salivating, and I was forced to swallow my saliva, so I wouldn’t drool all over the floor. The sight of the food had my stomach growling and hissing for it. It looked as good as, if not better than, the food I had for breakfast earlier today. Not only that, the entire room was way warmer than the other rooms and hallways, and I sighed as warmth finally reentered my body.

     “Woah! This looks _amazing_!” 9 exclaims, his face brightening up for the first time since I met him. 15 thanked him for his compliment with an airy giggle, placing a hot plate of food right in front of 9, her seat, and me before hesitating. Finally, 15 huffed and gave 4 her food, and she _accidentally_ spilled a bit of bacon juice on 4’s clothing.

     “Ugh! 15!” Leaving 4 to her mess, 15 giggled and leapt right out of 4’s reach, careful to keep quite a distance between her and 4. Amused, 15 danced about with a klunk-eating grin on her face, and 4 smiled right back.

     Suddenly, 4 leapt for 15, and, yelping, 15 dove to one of the sides, barely avoiding one of 4’s long arms. 4 screeched and chased after her, and 15 screamed right back. It was a shrieking match, which 15 most definitely won, and 4 kept diving for 15, intent on possibly killing 15. Somehow more experienced, 15 jumped and rolled out of the way, sometimes leaping onto the ceiling and sticking her nails into it, shrieking at 4 in a parody of 4’s rage-filled screams.

     Watching in apprehension, it was almost mesmerizing how 15 practically danced around 4, infuriating her further. Tired and fatigued, 4 sat back down in defeat, and 15 skipped over to her seat between me and 9, happily humming to herself. Until a pea from 4’s plate flew through the air and hit 15 right in the eye. “Owie!” Snickering, 4 smirked as she had finally gotten her revenge on 15.

     In the beginning, I just sat there, remembering all the gross things 15 had said and losing my appetite because of it. But then, my stomach complained non stop, and I needed energy for later, so I began to eat. True to the smell and looks, the food was just as good as what I had eaten earlier, and my stomach settled down, happy to have food.

     The chocolate cake helped convince me.

     It was nice to be warm, but my clothes still stuck to me in places that were really uncomfortable. My clothes were still dripping wet. Completely soaked below my chest. It was...irritating, to say the least.

     Immediately after devouring her meal, 15 brainstormed as she tore off pieces of her plastic plate and chewed thoughtfully on them. During the end of my meal, I could hear 15 mumbling about tearing up his sack...whatever that means. I stuffed my spoon full of chocolate cake into my mouth when 15 abruptly stopped mumbling.

     “Did you hear that?” All at once, everyone lifted their heads to stare at 15, and even 9 didn’t know what it was. She wordlessly got out of her chair, every noise that she made somehow muted, in a strange way. Pacing about the room, she came to a stop right next to a vent and looked directly up.

     First anger, then disgust, and, at last, fear. Those were the expressions 15 had before all hell broke loose.

     Something jumped onto 15 from the vent so fast none of us had any chance to react. 15 screeched as she fended for herself, swinging her arms to slash at the humanoid creature. It screeched and roared, snapping its jaws at her. If I had taken a longer look, I would have been able to identify its strong spots and could possibly even find the weak spots.

     But I could only think about one thing: 15. I _had_ to save her, for she was the only friend that I had right now. So I did the first thing that came to mind; I charged at the creature. 

_Maybe I_ should _have paid attention to the..._ thing. That was what I thought as I, with only luck on my side, managed to avoid becoming swiss cheese. The creature had no time to react other than slice, so it took speed over aim, which saved me from its claws. But then we crashed onto the floor, and there the creature had the upper hand of skill and speed.

     My surprise attack was merely to shock the creature, but it recovered swiftly and shrugged me off without any effort. Falling to the floor, I had no chance of escaping those claws. On my own. 

     Just as rapidly as the creature did, 15 got back up and was able to fight the creature more easily now that the creature didn’t have surprise on its side. Under no restraints, 15 leaped from wall to wall, slicing at the creature as she moved. Blood splattered all over the floor, and, without a doubt, the creature was _pissed_.

     So pissed, in fact, that it decided to attack me instead of 15. 15, the agile girl that she is, managed to steer the arm away enough so that my entire left arm wasn’t torn to shreds, but three long claws sliced through my muscles like ribbons. I could feel my throat almost tearing apart as I screamed, the pain like no other. Not even like one of those electric gun shots. Of course, I’ve hardly had to experience the pain, but _still_! 

     The pain was unbearable. Everything seemed to stop as I howled in agony, clutching my profusely bleeding arm to my chest. My white shirt was now stained red, and the blood trickled down to soak my pants even more, but that didn’t matter. The all-consuming pain was the main focus of my attention.

     Purring reached my ears, but I didn’t care for that. What I couldn’t bear was my arm, burning and tormenting me. A touch had my arm exploding with spasms, and I couldn’t even scream anymore. I had lost my voice from the cries of pain. Nothing made sense, but I could hear something yelping as another thing pushed them all away.

     Next thing I know, I’m on a bed of some kind, and the lights are whooshing over my head as they move. _Wait, that’s not right. Lights can’t move._ With a sense of deja vu, it hit me that the lights above weren’t moving. It was me.

     Tears streaking down my cheeks, I clutched my arm and silently wept from the throbbing of my arm. It hurt _so badly_ , and I couldn’t even move it without opening my mouth to scream with no noise. Roars and howls chased me through the white hallways, and I was back with Janson, carrying me through the halls to meet my friends, and then Minho pushing the bed as we ran from WCKD.

     But there was no time to go back down memory lane. Actually, there was no memory lane anymore. There was only me and the pain. Barely registering the faint “Okay, I’m going to lift you now,” in my ear, the bed stopped, and the thunders behind me grew louder and louder.

     Then, I could feel someone trying to lift me up, and my arm burst into bright, hot flames of aches and burns. My body couldn’t take the pain anymore, and I fainted from the pain. 

     ...Well, this sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know this was a bit...confusing, but I will explain most of this in the next chapter. If I have any room for it while progressing with the plot. Please be patient. Also, sorry for leaving another cliffhanger. I couldn’t help myself!
> 
> Anyways, hope you all enjoyed this! See you in the next chapter/story!


	14. Escape The Pot, Land in The Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me except for this disclaimer. Everything else belongs to whoever owns it.
> 
> So, hello. Thanks for reading this. I really appreciate it, even if it’s just a few people reading. It still makes me feel happy knowing that somewhere, someone is enjoying what I am making for them. Well, for me and them.
> 
> U: I don’t really know what to say, but I did try to make Janson really creepy. That’s just how I’ve always seen him from the very first time since I ever saw Janson’s face. And that was before I knew that the actor had acted Little Finger, which was a bad guy, and before I ever read any of the books. So, Janson was supposed to be creepy, and I’m glad I managed to pull that off to you. (This was a little late, I’m sorry.)
> 
> Nur123: Trust me, it will all become at least a little bit clearer. Just hold out for a bit.
> 
> And for the people that I don’t know about, thank you for even making it this far into the story. It was supposed to be just Janson torturing Thomas without actually doing anything, but then it turned into an elaborate plot that somehow is working out a bit. Just need to work on a few of the details from earlier, and we’re all set.
> 
> If I have any spelling errors, it’s because I have no one but myself to proof-read this, and then when I publish it I’m already on the next chapter. So, I most likely won’t fix them. Sorry.
> 
> Don’t worry, I’ll try to check it as often as I can while writing. There might even be an error in my note. But just understand that I am one person, and my friend just skims through it. They don’t even try to check it for any minor spelling details. So, I most likely won’t know about it.
> 
> Wow. I didn’t even mean to make the note that long. It just...became like that.
> 
> Anyways, onto the story!

     I could feel that my eyes were open, but there was no light at all, so it was pitch black where I was. After a few moments of darkness, scratches echoed off the walls, and then a small flame lit up, chasing the shadows away a bit. It wasn’t much, but then the flame began to eat away at a candle, and it was just a bit brighter. Bright enough for me to recognize 15 holding up the lit candle.

     “Here.” She hands me the burning candle and the box of matches, and I take them, nodding once and giving a small smile. 15 returned it with a grimace, but she tried, and that’s all that matters. “I’ll be gone for a bit, but don’t even _think_ about leaving. It won’t take me long, but if you hear any scratching sounds or just _anything_ other than you, blow out the candle and HIDE.”

     Her face was cast into shadows by the flickering glow of the flame, and it was terrifying. I nodded, and I could swear that 15 looked relieved when I did so. “Good. And don’t trust anyone other than me, okay?” And with that, 15 disappeared into the darkness. 

     A grate slide across the floor, and I could hear it locking into place. The pain in my arm has dropped to a dull throb, but if I move it too fast, it feels like someone poured acid on it. So I have to do everything slowly, and gradually, I built a mental map of the room that I was in. It was small, big enough for just a child’s bed to take up most of the room. But if I moved my hand alongside the wall, I could find a crevice that I could squeeze into, hidden among the darkness.

     Every now and then, I would hear a moan breaking the heavy silence, or scratching noises on the other side of the walls. Whenever that happened, I blew out the candle and squeezed into the crevice, lightly breathing and trying my best to keep quiet. One time, I could hear something enter the room, but after a few sniffs, they left, and I could let out a sigh of relief. But other than that, it was completely silent. So silent that I could hear the ringing in my ears, and then it felt like the room was shrinking, about to crush me any second.

     I wasn’t claustrophobic. You couldn’t be, if you wanted to survive. But this room was still a bit suffocating, especially when you only have one candle that poorly lights up the room. Every shadow could be Janson, lurking in the darkness and waiting for me to relax before he—  

     “Boo!” Yelping, the candle almost goes out when I flail. 15 hangs upside-down from the ceiling, laughing at my spooked self. “Dang, you’re so easy to scare. I told you I wouldn’t take long, didn’t I?” 

     She gently set herself onto the floor, her nails gleaming as the light of the flame reflected off of its smooth surface. As she settles in, her nails a constant reminder of how dangerous 15 is, my mind begins to wander. It seems like now would be a good place to ask questions, for later we could be running for our lives or doing something else that would prevent me from actually getting answers. 

     “Hey, 15?” My voice was raspy and raw, and my throat still hurt after the screams I had let out earlier. Her eyes met mine, and in the dim lighting I could imagine Janson hovering over her, a hand on her shoulder in a threatening manner. Choosing the most basic question, I asked, “What is this place?”

     15 examines her nails, and she refused to meet my eyes. Softly, 15 said, “This is where all of the subjects that managed to run away hang out. 1 protects us, as long as we don’t look at him, and he keeps this place clean. Of course, not all of us have some of our sanity left, so that’s why you need to keep a low profile.”

     Our eyes lock on once more, and I swallowed out of fear. This question would either get me killed, or give me answers. “So, you’re a subject. A subject of what, exactly?” 

     In the dim light, 15’s face was absolutely murderous. Curling up a bit, I withdrew from 15, scared by her face. Her hands curled into fists, and she breathed heavily, as if she was trying to keep herself from screaming at me. Eyes glowing in the light, she was glaring at me, and I ducked my head, not wanting to see her nails flash as they slice through my head.

     But she never came close to murdering me. Instead, I could hear 15 sighing deeply, and a droplet hitting the hard floor echoed through the room. “They were experimenting on us. Trying to find a cure, they would take the volunteering Immunes’ enzymes and force our body to make the enzyme, hoping it would at least give us a chance at being Immune to the Flare.” Then she took in a shuddery breath, and another droplet splattered onto the floor. 

     “They...It didn’t...The scientists only caused us to go insane, and I was the fifteenth subject that they had. 1 was the first to escape, the first to help others escape, and the first to be killed.” Cracking every so often, her voice wavered and sounded as fragile as china.

     Her face hardened, and 15 drew in a breath or air, puffing her chest up in an attempt to bottle up her feelings once more. “Now, we live here, claiming this part of the building as our own and killing anyone that so much as breaths over the invisible border line.” Here was when she paused, a thoughtful look on her face.

     “Now that I think about it, you seem...different than the others. You were already an Immune, but when your blood was spilled...” 15 shuddered violently, enough that I could see her entire body vibrate even in this dim lighting. “It was horrifying,” she finally concluded.

     Curiosity peaking, I couldn’t hold in the question. “Why was it horrifying? What happened?” An eyebrow was raised.

     “You _seriously_ want to know?” Pausing briefly, I nodded in response. Shrugging her shoulders, 15 collected her thoughts. “Okay, fine. Here’s what I saw.” 

     I waited patiently, holding my breath and allowing the silence to stretch on before 15 continued. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, reminding me of Brenda, and then she said, “When 5 slashed your arm—.”

     “Hold up! _That thing_ was 5?!” My mouth was agape, hanging open in bewilderment. “The person that we were trying to find this entire time?!”

     “Shush!” She clapped a hand over my mouth and listened, her muscles tense, and the air around us seemed to thicken. There was nothing I could hear, nothing at—

_Wait!_ There was _something_ outside the room, slithering along metal. Probably the interior of the vent. “Duck!” She didn’t need to tell me twice. 

     I grabbed the matches, extinguished the candle, and hid from view under the bed, having no time to run for the crevice. 15 huddled next to me under the bed, her hand forcing my head down further. No arguements from me, for there was a loud *BANG* from where the grate was. The grate flew right at the bed and hit the wooden posts, getting the hairs at the base of my neck to stand straight up.

     Something slithered along the floor, but I couldn’t even see my hands, so I had no idea what was making the noise. 15’s hand was covering my mouth, keeping my breaths quiet, and then the thing stopped moving. Silence. 

     A minute passes. Nothing. 

     Two minutes. Nothing again.

     Three minutes. One tap against the wall.

_Six minutes._ It took whatever was out there _six minutes_ before it finally gave up and slithered along the ground once more, sliding into the vent where it had come from.

     Usually, I would have pulled myself out from underneath the bed and start booking it out of there. However, this was something I never had to experience before, hiding in complete darkness with something intelligent hunting you down. So we waited. 

     Two minutes passed before the slithering thing returned. But now it didn’t sound like a snake sliding across the ground. It sounded like a human being dragging their bare belly across the concrete, desperate for something, anything, to eat. That thought sent shivers down my spine, and I wished that I could pull out the candle, just to feel safer.

     My body itched to crawl out from under the bed, but the thing didn’t leave this time. I could hear it grunting as it pulled itself across the floor one last time before it collapsed, its body thumping against the concrete. Both of us held our breaths, trembling under the not-so-well-hidden hiding spot. Then, I felt 15’s hand move from my mouth down to my hand, squeezing gently, and I squeezed right back, smiling even though 15 wouldn’t be able to see it.

     Multiple pricks in my palm alerted me that 15 was digging her nails into my hand, and I tried to pull away before I could begin to bleed out. Still, I could feel blood droplets slide down my palm and drip onto the floor. On my right, I could feel 15 tense right as the thing in the room with us began to sniff loudly. Purrs filled the room, and the sound of it had my entire body entering the flight-or-fight response.

     When 15 began to rapidly leave me, I decided to flee and crawled out from underneath as well. As I did so, the slithering noise started up again; I could feel cold, thin fingers gripping my ankles, getting me to make this odd whine that was _almost_ as scream but not as loud. The purring grew louder and louder, and the hand latched onto my legs was vibrating intensely. The muscles on my legs grew lax, and it wasn’t responding anymore. Without one of my legs to use as support, I clumsily crashed onto the ground, almost hitting the bed as I fell.

     The thing crawled over me, trying to reach for my hand, purring and moaning all the while. Everywhere the thing touched, my muscles grew limp, and I was soon hardly able to even move. A tongue lapped up my blood, and the vibrations turned into shudders, and a long whine left the creature. Something hard, perhaps the back of their claws or nails, was pressing into my side a bit, yet it was hardly as important as the sharp teeth the thing had biting down into my hand again. I yelled, and I could hear 15 knocking into the bed, most likely trying to find where I was in the darkness. 

     As the tongue lapped up the blood again, 15 slammed into the creature, and a fierce roar of anger was torn out of the thing’s throat. Drowsy, I could hardly move until 15 slapped my face a couple of times, almost shouting, “Wake up!” Feeling returned to my body, but it felt like sharp needles poking into my skin all over. The feeling that you get when your arm “falls asleep” was the same feeling around everywhere the stupid creature touched.

     “We have no time to lose!” The arm with the claw marks was pulled on, and blistering pain sprouted up along my arm. Everywhere was hurting. I was one big bruise posing as a functioning human being, and I was not a very good actor at that. “Come on!” My legs recovered the fastest, allowing me to stand on my own without support, and my arms were recovering fast. 

     The creature was slowly getting up again, and I could hear the dopy whines turning into ferocious growls and hisses. “Come on!” Her whisper helped to guide me into the vent, and I clambered through right behind 15, favoring my right side. Trailing after us was the screams of the creature, alerting anything else in the vicinity our whereabouts.

     “Hurry! Before 1 gets here!” Even as 15 said that, I could hear the faint sounds of water sloshing, and it helped to propel me forward. From behind, the creature was sliding along the vent, babbling nonsense in howls and shouts.

     A few more seconds, and the walls of the vent pressing down on all sides ceased to exist. I was lifted up onto my feet, and I fumbled for the matches I had somehow kept ahold of, since the lights had most likely been shut down. Since the hushes of water flowing grew louder from each direction, there was no way to know which way 1 was coming from. “Which way?” I half-yelled, the cacophony of noises from the water and the growls from the creature in the vent making it impossible to hear each other otherwise.

     “This way!” 15’s voice came from my left, light and gentle compared to the other noises filling my ears. I chased after her voice, and tried to direct myself away from any strange yelps or hisses that now filled the hallways. “Over here! Hurry!”

     As we ran, the slithers of the creature faded away, but the water never stopped running, and I could feel and hear my feet hitting water while I followed 15’s guiding voice. “Come on! We need to find a room!” I nodded, mentally slapping myself when I remembered that it was darker than the darkest night. 

     Soon after, the creature that had followed us screamed into the night, cutting off abruptly. Chills slide down my spine, and the water that had reached my ankles began to drain, which meant 1 was gone. That was one good thing.

     Before I could sigh in relief, howls erupted from almost every hallway around us, and 15 yanked me into one of the rooms on my left. The door was silently shut behind us, and the new surroundings had me bumping into a bed in the middle. Every room had a bed in the middle of it, it seemed. “All we have to do is survive a few hours. That shouldn’t be too bad.”

     15 wasn’t sounding very convinced about what she said, but I was willing to believe that we could do this. Screams filled the night, and I hugged myself tightly, wishing that I was back with my friends, wishing I had never joined Sadia, and wishing I had just stayed outside the room. Slim arms wrapped around me as best as they could, and I leaned into them, desiring comfort from any human being by this point. “You might want to hide your blood, or else they’ll find us again.” 15 pulled away, ripping off some clothing before wrapping the cloth around my hand.

     “Why would I need to hide it?” Loop around the tree and through the rabbit hole. Tighten the bow to keep the bandage on. The darkness kept me from seeing 15, but I think she’s looking right at me. 

     A tiny gasp echoed through the room right as I could feel the sticky bandage on my sliced arm peeling off. “Did I do that? Sorry...” *rip* Another article of clothing was being wrapped around my other arm this time.

     “Well? Why would I need to hide my blood from them?”

     “Because they can smell it. I don’t know why, but for some reason, the smell of your blood drives the others bonkers and makes them act like they’re drunk or intoxicated just by the smell. Even 9 was affected, though not as severely as 4 or 5.” Her warmth leaves me, allowing the cold to sweep in and take the remaining warmth away. There was no way I was sleeping on that bed, who knows what might have been on it.

     “Intoxicated? On the smell of my blood?” That was hard to believe. How would you react if you were told that your blood makes monsters around you drunk? 15, however, didn’t even acknowledge that I said anything of the sort. 

     “We’re going to be here a while. Might as well relax.” With that, 15 returns to snuggle up closer, sharing our warmth and shielding the other from the unrelenting cold surrounding us. Her arms wrapped around mine, and mine were wrapped around hers. The concrete wall dug into my back, and the hard floor wasn’t any better.

     Though it made for a lousy bed, I managed to close my eyes and nap, even if it was for just a little bit.

**[Fatigue]**

_Looking over the desert, I shield my eyes from_ _the sun, ignoring the scorching heat cooking my skin for the moment. All that really mattered was getting to the mountains. Find the Right Arm. Defeat WCKD._  

_Simple, right?_

_“How’s it looking?!” I turn back to my friends, and there’s a blond guy, Frypan, and Minho seated on some rocks, skin turning red from the unrelenting heat and sweating profusely. The blond’s name was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t quite get it out._

_“It’s a little further!” They all turn around, quite obviously not convinced. I can hear one of them muttering something, but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is the girl in front of me._

_Her face worries me, so I express my concerns. “Hey, what’s going on with you?” My heart sank at the thought of her getting hurt by something WCKD had done to her._

_“They did something to me.” She paused, as if something she was trying to keep inside was eating away at her. “At first, it just felt like I was waking up from a dream or something. Then they all started coming back.”_

_“Your memories?” A slight nod. Softly biting her bottom lip. “What do you remember?” I was desperate to know something, anything._

_“I remember the first time they brought you in. I was taller than you, then. Faster, too.” She let out a light giggle, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the sound of her laugh. A blush fought to be seen, but I buried it down._

_“Okay.”_

_“And I remember why we were all there. We thought we could fix all of this.” The girl rubbed the back of her neck, facing me once more with a bit of nervousness yet determination in her stance. “I think we should go back.”_  

_“What?” Did she seriously just SAY that?! That we should GO BACK?!_

_“Just listen to me—!” No! They hurt us. What else is there to consider?_

_“What are you talking about? Go back? After everything they’ve done to us?” Her eyes showed conflicting expressions, as if she was ACTUALLY thinking about if she should side with WCKD or not. There’s nothing to think about, WCKD is evil and that’s that._

_She shook her head, desperation in her voice. “It’s not that simple.” How is it not simple? Does she seriously think it’s complicated? WCKD hurt us and are hooking us up to machines to suck the life right out of us, of COURSE we can’t go back._

_“Yeah, I think it’s that simple.”_

_Her eyes were ablaze with hidden loss and annoyance at how I wasn’t getting what she meant. “No. You don’t understand.”_  

_“What don’t I understand?” I took a step forward, silently daring her to say something that would change my mind._  

_“Everything was fine until you...” She fell silent, letting the sentence trail off. Why does everyone want to keep secrets from me?_

_“What?” I’m tired of all the secrets, all the lies. I NEED something to satisfy me, some kind of truth._

_“Nothing.” Her head was bowed, and she wouldn’t look me in the eye._

_I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed answers. “Teresa, what aren’t you telling me?” I deserve to know..._

_“Hey!” Our heads rose in unison, observing the others. “Guys, get down here!”_

     “Thomas, wake up!” My lids flew open and I straightened up in an instant, a crick in my neck. Spooking 15, I silently cheered for getting revenge. Then, I realized that I could see. Did I really make it through the night?

     “You scared the crap out of me!” Her dress was torn at the hem, and I could see the fabric of her dress wrapped around my right hand and my entire left arm. Sweat shone on her head, 15 was breathing heavily, and splatters of blood stained her once pristine dress; in her hand, she held a burlap sack full of who knows what. Most likely the sack 5 was said to have. A grin split her face in half, but there was an underlying sorrow under her cheerfulness.

     I rubbed my eyes, wishing for a sink to wash away the blood stains that were scattered around my ripped shirt. The dream that I had was already fading, and I could hardly even remembered what had happened. But one name stuck to me, the name that I finally had a face to match it with. Teresa, the girl Minho had mentioned, was the dark haired girl that betrayed us at one point. 

     I never had any time to sort through my memories, but now that I had some time to sort through them, whatever Janson did removed quite a bit. There were parts that seemed out of place and had no context, and sometimes I would be in one place and then be in some other place with no clue as to what had happened in between. It was horrifying to know that Janson had removed so much of it just to make me hurt less, and it hurt just to know that I had forgotten people that were important to making me who I am.

     “Come on!” 15 pulled on my right arm, wary of my wounds. “If it’s bright out, we should leave as soon as possible! I got the sack that has everything we need to get you where you need to be!” Basking in her victory, 15 grinned and slung the sack over her shoulder.

     A new candle (we had forgotten the last one when we were running away from the purring creature) and the box of matches were almost pushed into my hands. It hurt when the match box dug into one of the bite wounds, but I didn’t react. “There!” 15’s face glowed with pride and hid a bit of the sadness that I could see in her face, so I decided not to mention anything about what she was feeling. Even though she might be hurting, I wanted to keep her happy for as long as I could.

     I’ll just talk to her later about this.

     Another pull, and I laughed. “Okay, okay!” Now that the hallways were bright and empty of any sign of life other than us, it was less eery and foreboding to walk with 15. The howls from last night had stopped now, but it was very quiet through these halls. And bright. Like the calm before the storm.

     Then we stopped in front of a blank wall. No grates, no doors, nothing remotely interesting about this wall. But 15 dropped the sack right in front of the wall, stuffing her hand into it with a wet *squish* that had me cringing. Her hand rummaged through the sack, creating more wet sounds and sometimes a loud *BANG* or a small *click, before pulling it out, holding a small yellow key in her hand. 

     She knocked on the wall, fast and sharp, and then knocked a few more times. It went on, becoming more and more complicated, but at last, something began to move from within the wall. A section of the wall, after a minute or two, slid to the right to reveal a small metal door with a keyhole yet had no doorknob or handle. 15 prodded the hole with the key, before the key finally sunk in deeper than the other times. She twisted the key and kept on going before it couldn’t go any farther.

     The door swung towards 15, and 15 helped it continue. Once it was wide enough for us to squeeze through, 15 yanked the key out and motioned for me to go through. Complying, I crawled into the small metal duct, but I didn’t hear 15 following after me. There was enough room for me to look behind me, but I couldn’t turn around.

     “Come back soon!” With that, 15 shut the metal door, and I could feel the metal vibrating as everything slid back into place. It was dark, but I still had the matches and a candle, so I lit them. I never had the chance to talk about what might have been eating away at her, and the guilt began to weigh down on me.

     As I crawled forward, I couldn’t help but let the thoughts of guilt roll over and over again through my mind. Should I have talked to 15 about what she might have been feeling? What would have happened if I did decide to talk? Is she going to hate me for not talking about it with her? What if she’s so sad she doesn’t notice when 1 might be walking around?!

     All of these thoughts swirled in my mind as I reached the end of the duct. I hopped out, remembering to shut it behind me, and I was impressed at how well the exit blended into the wall. Even if I knew what I was looking for, I still would have had so much trouble just trying to find the exit, and would have had much more trouble just trying to get in their territory through it. These kids and possibly teens/adults were the masters of disguise.

     As quietly as I could, I opened the door, thanking the universe that the hinges were well greased, and poked my head into the hallway, looking both ways. There was one door to my left that had been boarded up, and the hallway continued a bit farther down to my right, with multiple doors on both sides of the corridor, before turning left. Coming to a conclusion that it was safe, I stepped out of the room, almost expecting 15 to pop out from the ceiling or behind me. Every single sense seemed to be on hyper alert for anything dangerous.

     I couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see any other signs of life, and no alarm bells were going off. But it was too silent. By the way the other rooms I entered looked, it should have been bursting to the seams with activity. There was nothing there. 

     Thankfully, one of the rooms had a spare t-shirt, probably taken off because of the coffee stain. It was a purple plaid button-up shirt and looked horrendous to wear, even by my standards, but I put it on anyways. It was better than having a sliced up, bloody white shirt any day. There were a few bathrooms that I could shower in, for I had most likely been exposed to a lot of germs, but I was too scared to look in the mirror.

     Ready to take on the world, I wandered up and down the place, finally reaching where the scientists worked. I could see multiple labs, and there were a few teens and children chained up and snarling at me, glaring as I walked past. Every time I looked at them, or made eye contact, they bared their sharper-than-normal teeth, and everything about them screamed “I’m insane and I’ll kill you!”

     A shiny object caught my attention, and I almost grinned in victory at what I stumbled upon. There, lying harmlessly on a metal cart with some sheets of important-looking papers, was a camera. They must have been taking photos and videos of their subjects, recording when and how the subjects slowly lost their minds. This would be perfect to show my friends if they didn’t believe what I was going to say to them.

     As I picked up the camera, one of the cell doors burst open to reveal Katy, mutilated to the point where she was almost unrecognizable, if it wasn’t for her voice screaming, “It’s all your fault! You’re the reason why they did this to us!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...that’s it. Sorry for the cliffhanger (again), but I want to post this chapter today. So, I have to end it here. See, I gave you some answers!
> 
> Anyways, I hoped you liked this chapter! See you all in the next chapter/story!


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